


Illusory

by pterawaters



Series: Mr. Sandman [17]
Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Byers Family Has Powers (Stranger Things), Canon-Typical Violence, College, Established Relationship, Italian Mafia, Jonathan Byers Has Powers, Journalism, Long-Distance Relationship, Multi, Phone Sex, Polyamory, Spies & Secret Agents
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-19
Updated: 2020-04-23
Packaged: 2021-03-02 03:02:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 27,088
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23728015
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pterawaters/pseuds/pterawaters
Summary: Jonathan and Charlie get called away to help a federal investigation in New York City. Left in Chicago without Jonathan, Steve and Nancy help hide a teenager who witnessed a crime.
Relationships: Jonathan Byers/Steve Harrington/Nancy Wheeler, Steve Harrington/Nancy Wheeler
Series: Mr. Sandman [17]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1527764
Comments: 29
Kudos: 59





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I'm back at it again! I took a break to work on some other projects, including [a few Stonathan fics](https://archiveofourown.org/works?utf8=%E2%9C%93&work_search%5Bsort_column%5D=revised_at&include_work_search%5Brelationship_ids%5D%5B%5D=10980448&work_search%5Bother_tag_names%5D=&exclude_work_search%5Brelationship_ids%5D%5B%5D=10855957&work_search%5Bexcluded_tag_names%5D=&work_search%5Bcrossover%5D=&work_search%5Bcomplete%5D=&work_search%5Bwords_from%5D=&work_search%5Bwords_to%5D=&work_search%5Bdate_from%5D=&work_search%5Bdate_to%5D=&work_search%5Bquery%5D=&work_search%5Blanguage_id%5D=&commit=Sort+and+Filter&user_id=pterawaters), an [ABO AU Stoncy Fic](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23152801), and a bunch of works for the upcoming [Stoncy Week](https://stoncyweek2020.tumblr.com/)! I also started a Stoncy chat and RP [Discord Server](https://discord.gg/kXhqDmC). You're welcome to come check it out if you like!
> 
> For those of you who are new here, this is the latest work in a long series. To understand what's going on, I really suggest starting either [at the beginning](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21186206) or at part 8, [Sleepwalker](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21583837).
> 
> You can find the sources for the images used in the header [here](https://pin.it/1BMEnhQ).

**_September 1988_ **

Jonathan put his camera up, pointing it at Monica and saying, “Chin up, just a little bit further, please,” as he made sure the focus was right before he snapped the picture, advanced the film, changed the focus a little, and snapped another.

“Can I help you?” Monica asked, and Jonathan realized that he’d been so focused on the assignment, that he’d totally missed Charlie’s approach. 

“Hey,” he said, clasping her hand for half a second in greeting. “I’m in the middle of an assignment.”

“Finish up,” she told him. “We’ve got a flight in three hours. 

Jonathan looked at his watch and said, “Shit.” _Technically_ , he was done with classes until Monday morning. Of course Owens would take advantage of that fact. Looking over at Monica, he said, “I’ve got one more shot on my list, then let’s do yours quick.”

“Where are you going?” Monica asked him. “And who is this? Your sister?”

“Cousin,” he said, moving angles to catch the light just right and setting up for his next shot. “Family business I gotta take care of. Hold still.”

He snapped his last shot, hoping like hell he was going to find time to develop the roll over the weekend. Maybe he’d give in and pay to have someone else do it. He didn’t trust anyone else with his negatives, but if it was between giving up a little control and failing his portraiture class, Jonathan had to choose not failing.

Shit, and he still had some prints he had to turn in for the paper, along with the article he’d been assigned to write. He didn’t love writing the articles, like Nancy did, but he was okay enough at doing it that he’d made the cut after the first week of classes and was still on the paper. Who knew how long that would last if Owens kept monopolizing his weekends?

Giving his camera to Charlie, Jonathan asked Monica, “Okay, where do you want me?”

“On that bench,” she said, pointing across the walkway. “Sit here, but then look that way and put your arm up on the backrest.”

“Like that?” he asked, keeping the angle of the sun in mind as he posed. 

“Yeah, but if you could look a little less…” Monica said, wincing. “Less angry?”

“Sorry,” he said, trying to control his face, and ignoring the way Charlie was laughing at him. _If you want me to finish anytime soon, you need to shut the hell up_ , he told her.

 _Not used to being the subject of the pictures, are we_? Charlie asked, grinning. Since she had his camera, she put it up to her face, aiming it at Jonathan. _Say cheese_!

Jonathan couldn’t help but laugh, then groan in frustration. “Sorry,” he told Monica, before turning to Charlie. “Would you get out of here? I’ll meet you at home.”

“No time,” she told him. “Owens sent me with a car _specifically_ so we would not miss our flight.”

“The Thursday flight to DC is leaving now, isn't it?” he said. “What flight is in three hours?”

“JFK,” she replied.

“Ooh, you’re going to New York?” Monica asked, snapping another picture, in which Jonathan was sure he looked confused. At least it was better than angry?

“I guess so,” he said. “Did you finish this pose?”

“Yeah,” she nodded. “Let’s have you stand behind the bench now, kind of leaning on it.”

“Right,” Jonathan said, following her directions and knowing it was only fair. After all, Monica had just put up with him taking her picture for the last half hour. 

After Monica crossed off the last shot on her list, she asked, “You want one with your cousin?”

“N–” Jonathan said, cut off when Charlie pulled him into a headlock.

“Take the picture!” Charlie cried, laughing when Jonathan finally twisted out of her grip. 

“You’re dead,” he told her, even though he was still kind of laughing. Turning to Monica, Jonathan said, “I’ll see you in class on Monday?”

“See you,” she agreed. “Have fun in New York!”

Jonathan gave her one last wave before gathering up his things. “I’ve gotta make a couple stops before we can leave campus,” he told Charlie. As they walked, he again wondered if he was the reason she hadn’t gone back to school this fall like she’d been planning. It was kind of one of those touchy subjects they didn’t really talk about unless sleep deprived, so instead he asked her, “Any idea what the mission is?”

“Owens didn’t say. An FBI agent, Cameron Weaver, is gonna meet us at the airport. I assume we’ll be getting the details from him.”

“Nancy’s always wanted to go to New York,” he said, leading the way into the communications building where the journalism department resided. “First Paris, now New York? She’s gonna kill me when she finds out.”

“We’ll bring her back a snow globe or some shit,” Charlie said. “And with your schedule ending Sunday night, I doubt we’re going to have any time for sightseeing.”

“True,” he said, heading into the paper offices. He took a folder out of his bag, made sure his name was on it, and then put it in the submission basket on the editor's desk. Riley was usually in class this time of day, but hopefully he would get everything later. 

Jonathan waved to one of the other journalism students – Kevin had _decided_ he and Jonathan were going to be friends – and then left again, Charlie still trailing in his wake. 

As they made their way back across the quad, Charlie asked, “Are we headed where I think we’re headed?”

“If I don’t show later for the commute home, he’s gonna worry,” Jonathan insisted. “It won’t take long. I promise.”

Charlie rolled her eyes, but said, “Fine. Let’s go say goodbye to your husband.”

Jonathan smiled, mostly to himself, at Charlie’s use of the word, “husband.” They weren’t really using it outside the family at all, so it still felt brand new.

Steve was in a different part of the library than usual, but his mind was so familiar to Jonathan that it wasn’t hard at all to track him down. Instead of sitting at one of the large tables like he normally would have, he was in a little study carrel amid the stacks. Crouching next to Steve’s chair, Jonathan whispered, “Hey, baby.” 

“Hey!” Steve said, a bright smile spreading across his face when he looked at Jonathan through his reading glasses. His smile faltered when he saw Charlie standing behind Jonathan. “Oh, shit. You’re leaving?”

Jonathan nodded. “Sorry. It’s really short notice.”

Turning in his seat, Steve wrapped his arms around Jonathan and pulled him as close as possible. “Stay safe, okay, sweetheart?”

“I will,” Jonathan promised. “You and Nancy take care of each other, alright?”

Steve nodded. “Yeah, we will.” He sniffled a little before bracketing Jonathan’s face with his hands and pulling Jonathan into a deep kiss.

Steve didn’t usually kiss Jonathan on campus, as he didn’t want to jeopardize his chances at being allowed to work with kids. But here, in the bowels of the humanities library, the only witness was Charlie, and it wasn’t like she was going to say anything.

Jonathan gave Steve one last kiss before hugging him and breathing him in. “Tell Nancy I’m sorry I couldn’t say goodbye to her in person.”

Steve nodded, and when Jonathan pulled away, he stood up too. "C'mere, Charlie," he said, pulling her into a hug. "D'you want me and Robin to stay home from the concert on Saturday, since you can't come with us?"

"Nah," she told him, stepping back. "Have fun without me. Get me a shirt or something."

"Sure." Steve gave her a smile, and then it was time for Jonathan to go, but he couldn't quite make his feet do the thing.

Feeling Charlie's annoyance with him, Jonathan said, "Just one more," and crashed back into Steve, kissing him again. 

Steve laughed, but kissed Jonathan back just as fiercely, squeezing him tightly before releasing him. "You should definitely go now. You know, before I do something stupid, like point out there's a bathroom right over–"

"Bye!" Charlie said, taking Jonathan's hand and physically dragging him away from Steve.

"Bye!" Jonathan called back to him in a loud whisper. "Love you!"

Steve waved, and Jonathan felt the way he was hiding his disappointment and sorrow. 

_Shit_.

As he and Charlie left the library, Jonathan controlled his breathing the best he could. He had to wipe away one or two tears, but if Charlie noticed, she was good enough not to mention it. 

~*~

Nancy walked into the Evanston police precinct, a hot cup of coffee in her hands. "Is he in?" she asked the officer at the reception desk.

"Who?" the officer replied – obviously new.

"Your captain." Nancy pointed to his office door behind the reception desk. "Foster?"

The officer gave Nancy a suspicious look. "Who should I say is calling?"

"Nancy Wheeler. From the Northwestern Daily. He should be expecting me." That wasn't _technically_ true, but Nancy had been stopping by at least every week since spring semester, barring the few times she'd been out of town. Foster _should_ have been expecting her, even if she didn't have an appointment on his calendar.

"Uh-huh." The office stood up and adjusted her uniform. She stepped over to Captain Foster's office, knocking on it, waiting a beat, and then going in.

Nancy couldn't quite hear the conversation, but the tone wasn't entirely conducive to what Nancy needed. She raised her voice and called through the open door, "I brought you a coffee! From Millie's!"

The conversation paused, and then Foster capitulated.

The uniformed officer came out and opened the door to the bullpen, letting Nancy through it. "He says you have five minutes."

"Plenty of time," Nancy replied with a smile. "Officer…"

"McGowan," she replied.

"Nice to meet you, Office McGowan!" Nancy threw in a wink along with her bright smile and friendly tone. Officer McGowan blushed and looked away.

"Captain Foster!" Nancy said as she entered his office. "I was thinking two o'clock in the afternoon is the perfect time for a pick-me-up, but of course, you're too busy to go yourself, and it was on my way…"

Foster was a round man with a bushy salt-and-pepper mustache and very large forearms. He stood up, reached across his desk, and plucked the coffee out of Nancy's hands. He frowned at it, opening the lid and inhaling the steam rising from the liquid.

"I don't have anything for you, Nancy," Foster said, right before taking a sip and closing his eyes in pleasure. "Thanks for the coffee, though."

"Nothing?" Nancy asked with her most charming smile. "Anything more about that office building robbery last week?"

"Nope," he replied with a smile.

"The thieves have to be selling all that computer equipment to _someone_. It's not like just anyone would know what to do with it."

Foster shrugged.

"What about gang activity?" Nancy asked, pointing her pen at him.

"Gang activity?" Foster asked with a snort. "This is Evanston, not the South Side."

"And the kids at Northwestern are just getting their cocaine when it falls from the sky?" She raised an eyebrow at him.

"You _sure_ you want to go poking into that bee's nest, sweetie?" Foster asked with a scoff. "You won't make editor of the paper by pissing off all the trust fund kids. Exposing their nasty little habits is going to do just that. Now, you get me a lead on the car thefts happening all around campus, maybe we can talk."

"Fine," Nancy said with a sigh. "I'll ask around." She smiled at him. "It was good to see you."

Foster rolled his eyes, but he was smiling fondly when he showed her the door. "Next time, bring a cruller, too."

"Sure thing, Captain!" she said, giving him a wave. After returning to the public side of the reception area, Nancy stopped at the desk again. "Officer McGowan?"

"Yes?" the woman asked, making abortive little movements like she was trying to appear more casual than she felt.

Nancy gave her another smile. "What's your first name?"

"Henrietta."

"Oh, that's so pretty," Nancy gushed, reaching across the desk to place a gentle hand on Officer McGowan's hand, just for a second. "How do you like your coffee, Henrietta?"

"Um," she said, smiling and blushing, "just with some cream, a little sugar."

"I will remember that for next time," Nancy promised. "See you later!"

"Bye!" Officer McGowan called after her.

Steve was right. Flirting to get what she wanted totally worked.

~*~

Steve climbed the ladder while Julia kept it steady, holding up the banner with one hand. "How's that?" he asked.

Across the room, Seth called, "Just a little higher."

Moving the banner, Steve asked, "There?"

Seth gave him a thumbs up, so Steve pressed the banner to the wall, praying that the loop of duct tape he'd stuck to the back side was going to hold.

"Is that everything?" Steve asked, looking at the clock. Nancy was going to be there any second.

"Almost," said Julia. "We have all the balloons to blow up yet. Maybe after dinner, Seth can help me out with that?"

"Sure," Seth said with a grin. He was a sweet kid, and even though he was thirteen, he still liked being helpful.

"Cool," Steve replied. Looking around the room, he nodded and said, "It's looking like tomorrow's sock hop is going to be the event of the season."

Julia laughed. "Yeah, okay. If you say so."

Steve threw her a wink, ruffled Seth's hair, and headed to the employee lounge to get his backpack. He had a practice lesson plan to finish before class in the morning. Hopefully Nancy wouldn't mind eating dinner somewhere quick.

When he came out from the back, Nancy was already there, chatting with Julia. "Hey, babe," he said, putting his arm around her shoulders and kissing her cheek. "Ready to go?"

She said goodbye to Julia, then looked around with a frown. "Where's Jonathan? Wasn't he supposed to be meeting us here?"

"Yeah, about that," Steve said with a sigh. Lowering his voice, he told her, "Jonathan and Charlie got called away on business."

"Shit," Nancy said, looking away from Steve and sighing. "He didn't even have time to say goodbye?"

Steve shook his head. "I'm sorry. I barely got a goodbye either. Two minutes in the school library."

"Owens isn't going to keep him for three weeks again, is he?" Nancy asked, taking Steve's hand and letting him lead her out to the parking lot. "He promised he wouldn't interfere with Jonathan's school."

"I literally have no details," Steve told her, finding where she'd parked the car and walking toward it. "Let's drown our sorrows in chow mein and chocolate ice cream."

"We'll get fat," Nancy said with a pout.

"We went running this morning, so no. We won't," Steve assured her, getting in the driver's seat and pushing back the chair so his knees weren't up against his chest.

There was a little strip mall between the shelter and home where Steve parked _mostly_ in a spot. "You wanna get the ice cream or the food?" he asked Nancy.

She sighed. "I'll get the ice cream."

Ten minutes later, as Steve was leaving the restaurant, he realized he'd bought enough food to feed three people, not two. Nancy walked toward him, a plastic bag hanging from her arm. "I got too much," Steve told her. "Jonathan's fried rice is in here."

With a sad laugh, Nancy admitted, "I got a pint of strawberry for him."

"At least the ice cream will keep in the freezer," Steve replied, taking Nancy's hand and walking with her back to the car.

"How was your day?" Steve asked as they walked. 

"Not great," Nancy told him. "Which makes tonight just the cherry on the fucking cake."

Frowning, Steve put the food on the floor of the backseat, then got back into the driver's seat. "I'm not sure that's how it–" He cut himself off when he saw the _extremely_ unamused look on her face. "Sorry. Shutting up."

"No," she said, putting her hand on his arm. "I'm sorry. You're right. I'm just in a shitty mood. Troy keeps giving all the good assignments to his buddies. If I'm going to put together an impressive portfolio, I need to find my own stories."

"I heard," Steve said, starting the car and pulling out of the spot, "that our government has literal super spies working on its behalf."

Nancy laughed. "Yeah, if only. Scoop of a lifetime, and I can't prove it. I'd be putting my husband in danger."

"Hey, I've been thinking about that," Steve said.

"What?" Nancy asked him. "Putting Jonathan in danger?"

"No, the whole husband thing. I think our individual marriages being separate is fine, but we should have one ceremony or vow-exchange or whatever for all three of us at the same time."

"Yeah?" Nancy asked, sounding more curious than anything else. "What would that look like?"

"I don't know, exactly," Steve told her. "But I think it should happen before you and I get married."

"Why before?"

"Because, you and me. That's gonna be the public-facing relationship. And I know Jonathan says that's what he wants too, but it feels too much like excluding him." Steve sighed and shrugged. "If we make vows to him and with him as a trio–"

"Triad," Nancy corrected, before shaking her head and gesturing for him to continue. 

"As a _triad_ , then maybe he won't feel as excluded during the wedding."

After a moment of silence, during which she nodded, Nancy said, "I like the idea. Yeah, I like it a lot."

"Good," Steve said with a relieved sigh. "Good."

"How private are you thinking? Like, just us, or…"

"Close family," Steve said. "People who already know we're together."

"Would someone, I don't know… officiate?"

"Sure."

"Who?"

Pulling onto one of the side streets of their neighborhood, Steve said, "I don't know. Mom, maybe? Joyce, I mean. She's known the longest."

Smiling, Nancy nodded. "He's gonna love that idea."

"If she even says yes," Steve took a second to parallel park the car.

"Steve," Nancy said, giving him a hard look. "There's no way she says anything other than yes."

Steve got out of the car, putting on his backpack, then taking the food in one hand and Nancy's hand in the other. "You should write something for her to say. Something good."

Nancy gave a little laugh. "No pressure."

Steve leaned over and kissed Nancy's jaw. "You've got plenty of time to think it over."

"I've also got plenty else I want to accomplish in the meantime," she told him, waiting as he opened the back door of their building with his key. 

"I know you'll make time for us," Steve said, holding the door open as Nancy stepped through it. "You always do."

"I try, honey," she said, pulling Steve into a kiss. "I really try."

~*~

It was almost ten when the plane landed at JFK. Jonathan had spent the entire flight with dead batteries in his Walkman and no ink in his pen. He'd finished the reading he needed to do for class, but he hadn't been able to work on his journalism essay, or his art history paper. 

Maybe taking a minor in journalism had been too much. Like, sure, he'd already made close to eight grand working for Owens, but this job was going to cost him more than it earned him if he ended up flunking out of school.

Charlie was six rows behind him and on the other side of the aisle, also in a middle seat. He envied her ability to sleep on planes. He knew he'd grown too dependent on Nancy and Steve being there for a good night's sleep. Never mind being able to catch up on a plane.

Jonathan waited for Charlie at the end of the jet way, falling into step with her as they headed for baggage claim.

 _I hope they're putting us up someplace decent_ , Charlie said, stopping to take a few swallows of water from the drinking fountain.

 _I hope this is something simple_ , Jonathan replied. _In and out._

Charlie laughed. "Like The Flash."

"Exactly."

"Let's go find out. We’re meeting him at baggage claim 4,” Charlie said after consulting a little notebook from the pocket of her jacket. “Cameron Weaver.”

Once they got to the right baggage claim, Jonathan spotted someone in the crowd and nodded in his direction. “It’s that guy.”

“How can you tell?” Charlie asked him. “You reading memories at a distance now? Like Jenny?”

“Nah, that takes too much effort,” he told her. “It’s more…okay, he’s got his eyes up, he’s wearing a suit, but not carrying a briefcase or luggage, he’s bored but knows how to look like he’s not, and his feet hurt.”

“What do his feet have to do with anything?” Charlie asked as they made their way over. 

“FBI guys have to wear nice shoes, but end up on their feet a lot of the day. It hurts.”

“Yeah, I guarantee you heels hurt worse.”

“I’m not gonna argue they don’t,” Jonathan assured her. “I’m also sure I’ve never seen you wear heels.”

“Cause they hurt.”

Jonathan laughed just before the guy he’d spotted put up his hand. “Miss Everly! Mr. Byers!”

 _Told you so_ , he said to Charlie as they finished closing the gap. 

She sent him a visual of herself flipping him off, which made it _very_ difficult not to laugh in front of the important FBI agent. 

“Hi,” the agent said, extending his hand to Charlie first. “Special Agent Cameron Weaver. Nice to meet you.”

Jonathan shook Agent Weaver’s hand, getting a flash of a memory at the contact. It was just a second or two of Weaver in the movie theater, watching _Children of the Corn_ , if Jonathan was remembering right. “Hi,” Jonathan managed to say.

 _What?_ Charlie asked him.

Jonathan relayed the memory fragment as Weaver started talking, “I’m supposed to give you a preliminary briefing on the way to your hotel,” he said, white teeth of his friendly smile in stark contrast with his deep brown skin. “Do y’all have any checked luggage?”

“No. We travel light,” Charlie said, grinning at Jonathan. _He thinks you look like that kid from the movie_.

 _Should I feel offended?_ Jonathan asked as they started following Weaver out of the baggage claim area.

_Nah. You kind of do._

Jonathan gave her foot a slight nudge with his powers, tripping her, then catching her with his hand on her arm before she could fall too far. “Watch your step!”

“Oh, you do _not_ want to play that game with me, Byers,” she said, but Jonathan could feel the amusement behind her pissed-off tone. 

Walking backward for a few steps, Weaver asked, “Are you two related?”

“We’re cousins,” Charlie told him, twisting her arm out of Jonathan’s hand and catching up with Weaver. “I’m surprised no one told you.”

Weaver scoffed. “Hell, they didn’t even tell me what you’re supposed to be experts in. I mean, no offense, but y’all look like a couple of kids to me.”

“Yeah, we get that a lot,” Charlie told him. As they left the airport and stepped into the muggy-but-cool early autumn night air, she asked, “Can I smoke in your car?”

“I’d rather you didn’t,” Weaver replied, gesturing to a dark blue sedan parked in a no-parking zone.

Charlie handed Jonathan her bag and said, “Well, then I’m gonna need a minute.”

 _Those things aren’t good for you_ , Jonathan said, taking her bag and putting it in the trunk of Weaver’s car, along with his own bag (except for his camera, which he took out and put around his neck so it wouldn’t roll around in the trunk).

_Fuck off, Dad!_

Jonathan rolled his eyes and took shotgun, sitting in the car with Weaver, waiting for Charlie to finish her cigarette. He felt just as awkward as he always did with new people, though the more he had to do it, the easier it got. 

“Sorry you got stuck with chauffeur duty tonight,” Jonathan said, putting on his seat belt. 

“Ah, comes with the job,” he insisted, before pointing to Jonathan’s camera. “That’s a nice piece of hardware you’ve got. You some special sort of crime scene photographer?”

“No,” Jonathan said. “I’m studying to be a photojournalist.”

“Studying?”

Jonathan nodded. “In college. Which I need to get back to before Monday morning.” He gestured at Charlie to get her to hurry up and she flipped him off for real this time. 

“And this job here,” he said, pointing at the floor, by which he probably meant New York in general. “It’s what? A hobby?”

“Nah, this is more like…” Jonathan scoffed, gesturing at Charlie again so she would finish already. “Conscripted duty.”

Weaver gave him a side-long look and Jonathan realized he wasn’t doing much to prove Weaver’s first impression of him wrong. 

Sighing and pushing his hair back away from his face, Jonathan asked, “What sort of division or whatever are you in?”

“Public Corruption,” Weaver replied, giving Jonathan a disbelieving look. “They really told you absolutely nothing about why you’re here?”

Jonathan gave a sarcastic salute and told Weaver, “The Joint Chiefs say, ‘Jump,’ and I’m only allowed to ask, ‘How high?’”

“They’ve got you over a barrel, huh?”

“And then some,” Jonathan agreed, sighing with relief when Charlie stubbed out her cigarette and left it in the ashtray on the sidewalk’s garbage can. 

Getting into the back seat, Charlie asked, “Are we going, or what?”

“We’re going,” Weaver said with a long-suffering sigh. He was not looking forward to working with them, that was for sure. 

“Don’t worry,” Jonathan told him. “We’ll be out of your hair by Sunday night.”

“What are we up to this weekend, anyway?” Charlie asked.

“Right,” Weaver said, pulling into the lane that left the airport. “My division is tracking down a network of corrupt individuals who worked for former undersecretary Alan Brown.”

“Shit, that guy?” Charlie asked, shaking her head. 

“You know of him?”

“Yeah,” Jonathan said, watching the nighttime city lights as they drove. “He tried to have us killed. Among other things.”

“I thought he was in DC,” Charlie said. 

“My office has uncovered off-the-books operations in a number of cities across the country. Now, we’re not quite sure what their directives were, but we’ve been able to follow the money. We scooped up a couple of people implicated by the cash flow, but we believe there are several more, and probably hidden pockets of evidence _somewhere_ in the city.” Weaver sighed. “I have to admit, I’m not quite sure why the director brought you in. I mean, what can you do that the rest of the agents on my team can’t?”

“You’d be surprised,” Jonathan told him. “Can we see the people you have in custody?”

“We’ve got interviews lined up starting at eight am tomorrow. I’ll pick you up at seven.”

“Ugh!” Charlie cried, tilting her head back against her head rest. “Why so _early_?”

“Are you or are you not on a compressed schedule?”

“Oh, we are,” Jonathan said, resetting the alarm on his watch. “Seven will be fine.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for this chapter: discussion of off-screen sexual assault, mention of the AIDS crisis

Nancy was sure the sound that woke her was the alarm clock, but when she reached out and turned it, the time was wrong. There was supposed to be another hour before it went off. What the hell?

Two seconds later, she realized that it was the phone ringing. She picked it up. "Hello?"

"Hey, Nance," said Jonathan's voice. "Sorry to wake you."

"No, don't apologize," she told him, feeling Steve start to stir behind her. "I'm glad you called. It's good to hear your voice. We missed you last night."

"I missed you too," he said with a long sigh. "At least they gave me my own room this time."

"Did you sleep?" Nancy asked, taking a quick breath when Steve kissed her neck.

A confused tone in his voice, he said, "Some." Then he asked, "Are you okay?"

Steve kissed her again and slipped his hand up under her shirt. Giggling, Nancy told Jonathan, "Your husband is feeling me up."

Amused, Jonathan asked, "Yeah?"

"Yeah," Nancy said, gasping when Steve paired a caress of her nipple with pressing his hard on against her ass. "Y-you said you had your own room, right?"

"I do…" he said, giving another laugh. "But there's… there's a good chance Owens has this line tapped."

"Then some perv at the CIA can get off too," Nancy told him, making both Steve and Jonathan laugh. 

"Nance," Jonathan warned, but she also heard the shaky breath he gave. 

Taking a sharp breath, Nancy said, "Steve has his hand in my panties now."

"I do?" Steve asked, and Nancy gave him a look over her shoulder and elbowed him. Moving his hand he said, "I mean, yeah, I do."

Jonathan sighed. "This isn't why I called."

"Do you have something important you want to discuss?" Nancy asked, helping Steve get her underwear off. "Or do you want to tell me what you're doing?"

"I'm laying in my hotel bed, thinking about how I have a little less than an hour to get dressed," he said, pausing when Nancy gasped at the feeling of Steve's fingers dipping through her folds, getting wet, "and grab something to eat before the FBI guy picks us up."

"Then you'd better hurry up," Nancy told him, groaning when Steve brushed his wet finger against her clit. "Oh…"

"Shit," Jonathan whispered, breathing heavier. "Oh, god. Okay, you win."

Grinning, Nancy asked him, "Are you touching yourself yet?"

"Jesus," he muttered, his voice sounding half turned on, half embarrassed. "Yeah."

Before Nancy could respond, Steve took his hand off her and grabbed the phone. "Close your eyes, sweetheart," he said, pausing for a second until he must have gotten a response. "Can you see us?"

Catching on to what Steve was up to, Nancy smiled at him and took off her shirt. Then she pushed the blankets down and grabbed Steve's underwear, pulling them off and throwing them out of the bed. 

"Yeah, she's gorgeous," Steve said, pausing just long enough to let Nancy kiss him. “Tell me what you want me to do.” A slow smile spread across Steve's lips, and then he said, "Yeah, I can do that."

Then he handed the phone to Nancy and said, "Lay down, babe."

"What did you ask him to do?" Nancy asked Jonathan, laying back on the pillows and letting Steve kiss her.

"You'll see," Jonathan said, and she liked how heavy he was breathing. 

Steve scooted down on the bed, getting between Nancy's legs and kissing her inner thigh. "Ah! That tickles!" she told him, squirming a little as he held her hips and put his mouth on her. "Ohhh," she said into the phone, closing her eyes and arching her back at how good it felt.

"He's got a great mouth, right, Nancy?" Jonathan asked.

"Mm-hmm," she said in agreement, sure that the way Steve was licking her and sucking on her clit that this was going to be the death of her. "God, can you feel it, Jonathan? From that far away? Can you feel it like you were next to me?"

"No," he said, groaning a little. "But I can see you. Put your hand in his hair, Nance."

With her free hand, Nancy reached down and pushed her fingers into Steve's hair, grasping a lot of it in her fist. "Like that?"

"Tug a little."

Nancy did so, and Steve groaned. The vibration of his voice against her clit made Nancy cry out and pull harder.

"Fuck," she told Jonathan. "It feels so good. I wish you were inside me while he was doing this."

Jonathan exhaled loudly. "I wish I was too. God, Nancy! I…"

"Are you getting close?"

"Getting there," he said, a hitch in his breath. "Can you ask Steve to fuck you now?"

"Yeah," Nancy told him, tugging on Steve's hair again. "Get up here, baby. I need you."

"Fuck, I need you too," he said, crawling up the bed and covering Nancy's body with his own. He kissed her, his lips tasting like her, and drove his cock into her pussy. 

Jonathan's breath sped up and he said, "Oh, god. How does it feel?"

Unable to form real words, Nancy cried out. Every thrust of Steve's cock inside her felt like it was lighting up her whole body.

"Shit, you guys look so good together," Jonathan said, giving a soft groan.

"What would you – ah! – what would you do?" Nancy asked him. "If you were here with us?"

"Touch you," Jonathan said with a groan. "Kiss you. Kiss him. Get your mouth on me…"

"Yeah?" Nancy asked, feeling reckless and so close to coming she could practically taste it. "Want me to turn over? Like if you were here? I'd have your cock in my mouth and Steve pounding into my–"

"Yeah!" he cried out. "Sweetheart, please. Do that! I'm so…"

Nancy pushed on Steve's shoulder, getting him to pull back, and then turned over onto her knees and elbows. Except she couldn't hold the phone that way, so she put her right cheek down on the mattress and held the phone to her left ear. When Steve pushed back into her, hard and fast, she cried out. 

"Lick your hand, Jonathan. Get it so wet. Wet like my mouth around you. God!"

"Fuck," said Steve, slowing down a little and reaching under her to stroke her clit with his fingers. "Fuck, fuck, god, so…"

"Steve's close," Nancy told Jonathan, having to stop talking and make small pleased noises in lieu of words when he found just the right angle. "Oh, that! Keep doing that, baby."

Jonathan muttered, "He's not the only one. Jesus. Nance, can I? Could I?"

"Could you – ohhh – could you what, sweetheart?" Nancy asked, shutting her eyes tight as she started to come.

"Come in your mouth," Jonathan said, his breath coming fast and loud through the phone.

"Yeah! Yes! Do it!" Nancy told him, coming and staying up at that high because Steve was still touching her and fucking her and Jonathan was coming for her and oh, fuck!

Taking his fingers away from her clit, but still fucking her, Steve grabbed the phone and said, "Tell me, babe. Tell me I can–" He pushed in tight and groaned, his cock pulsing inside Nancy. "Oooh, fuck!" He laughed, breathing hard and leaning forward, holding Nancy close and kissing the back of her neck.

"Yeah," Steve said into the phone, and he was close enough that Nancy could hear Jonathan's voice, but couldn't quite make out what he said. "Love you too, sweetheart," Steve said with a happy sigh, pulling out and collapsing down onto the bed next to Nancy. He said, "Yeah, talk to you soon," and then held the phone against Nancy's ear.

Taking the phone back from Steve, Nancy asked, "So? Good?"

Jonathan laughed and sighed. "Not as good as being there, but yeah. Good."

Smiling, Nancy told him, "I'm glad. I hope you have a good day. Love you.”

“Love you too, Nancy,” he said, sighing again. “I don’t know when I’m going to be able to call next.”

“Okay. Be safe.”

“I will. Bye.”

“Bye, honey,” Nancy said, hanging up the phone before turning toward Steve and cuddling close to him. “How come we never thought of that over the summer?”

With an amused huff, Steve said, “Dunno. Was kinda fun, though.”

“Mm-hm,” Nancy said in agreement. She settled her head against Steve’s shoulder and brushed her hand back and forth over his chest. “What’s your day like today, baby?”

Pushing his hair back with his free hand, Steve said, “Class. Lunch with Stef. Going to the center this afternoon. Then chaperoning that sock hop thing tonight.”

“How late does it go?” Nancy asked. 

“Not very. I think it’s supposed to end at eight thirty or something.” He shrugged. “They’re kids. Why?”

“I just…” Nancy sighed, turning to face the ceiling. “I don’t want to be here in the apartment by myself all night. I’ll get lonely.”

Steve smiled. “You could be my date to the dance? Put on a cute dress, we could dance, maybe go to a late movie afterward or something?”

“Oh, there was one I wanted to see. I think it came out last week. It had the guy from Taxi.”

“Tony Danza?” Steve asked.

Nancy shook her head. “No the other guy. Never mind. I’ll look up showtimes in the paper once I get to campus.”

“Sure,” Steve said, leaning close and giving Nancy a kiss. “Wouldn’t hurt to have a normal Friday night for once.”

“No, it wouldn’t,” she agreed as she turned the alarm clock to look at the time. “Still half an hour before we have to get out of bed. You wanna go for a run?"

"No," Steve groaned. He turned away from Nancy, pulling one of the pillows over his head, making her laugh.

~*~

After hanging up with Nancy and Steve, Jonathan took himself directly to the shower. He didn’t bother to shave, but washed off and brushed his teeth, barely drying and combing his hair before getting dressed. As had become his habit over the summer, he re-packed his backpack, leaving nothing of his in the hotel room. He never knew when he needed to follow the next lead to some other city, or even some other country. After having to leave his belongings behind once over the summer, and almost not getting them back at all, he wasn't repeating that mistake.

Bag packed, Jonathan went down to the breakfast room, pouring coffee in two Styrofoam take out cups and grabbing a danish and some sort of chocolate croissant before heading to the lobby. He managed to time it right, meeting Charlie as she got off the elevator. He handed her one of the coffees and the croissant. She mumbled a quiet, “Thanks,” and led the way out the front door. 

As she leaned against the outside of the hotel, watching for Agent Weaver’s car, she asked, “Why are you in such a good mood this morning?”

“None of your business,” he replied, taking a second bite of his danish and washing it down with the coffee.

“Ugh,” she said, rolling her eyes and putting the croissant in her pocket. She handed her cup of coffee to Jonathan before pulling a packet of cigarettes out of another pocket and lighting one. “Thank you,” she said, taking the coffee back. 

As she stood there, smoking, Jonathan couldn’t help but notice the resemblance between her and his mother. They even held their cigarettes the same way. It made him homesick, his good mood vanishing as he looked away, and tried not to think about how desperately he wished he wasn’t here right now.

“Yeah,” Charlie said, stepping closer and putting her arm around Jonathan. She put her head on his shoulder and they waited together silently, drinking their coffee.

It was five after seven and Jonathan had finished his breakfast and most of his coffee by the time Agent Weaver pulled up in front of the hotel. Charlie dropped her cigarette butt and snuffed it with her shoe before taking shotgun. Jonathan climbed in the back. “Morning.”

“Hey,” Agent Weaver said, pulling back into traffic. After a moment he said, “So, we’re headed over to the Federal lockup. I’ve got three interviews lined up. That folder,” he said, pointing over his shoulder to the accordion file sitting on the seat next to Jonathan, “has bios and initial interviews for all three prisoners. I thought it might be useful for you to know so we don’t double up on work that’s already been done.”

“We’re looking for hidden evidence, maybe a medical facility, right?” Jonathan asked, opening the file and pulling out one stack of papers held together with a binder clip. The name at the top of the report said, “Silas Kendrick.”

“Yeah,” Agent Weaver replied. “How’d you know about the medical facility?”

“Visited one outside Chicago a few years ago,” Jonathan told him, flipping through the packet of papers. “Involuntarily.”

Weaver met Jonathan’s eyes in the rear view mirror. “What do you mean, ‘Involuntarily?’” he asked. 

“That means he was kidnapped,” Charlie said, turning in her seat and taking the rest of the accordion file from Jonathan. 

“Jesus,” said Weaver, stopping at a red light. 

Moving past the whole kidnapping issue, Jonathan asked, "What's the interview facility like? Any sort of barrier between us and the prisoner?"

Weaver shrugged. "I don't think so. I think it'll be a fairly standard interview room. If you're worried about safety, we can make sure the prisoners are in restraints."

"Part of my process," Jonathan tried to explain, "involves being able to physically touch the person we're trying to get information out of. I'm not… I mean, I can try to do it without…"

After a silent moment, Weaver asked, "Are you talking about forcing a confession? Beating it out of them?"

"No," Jonathan said, sighing. "I'm sorry, I just don't know how much I'm allowed to tell you about what we do."

Weaver took a turn before saying, "I've got the proper security clearance to work on a case of this magnitude, if that changes anything."

"Cool," Charlie said, taking a sip of her coffee before saying, "We're psychic. That's the big secret."

Jonathan groaned, tipping his head back and squeezing his eyes shut.

"What?" Charlie asked. "Weaver's telling the truth that he's got security clearance."

"Yeah, I know," Jonathan replied. 

Addressing Weaver, Charlie asked, "You're not going to tell anyone, are you?"

"No," he said, shrugging and shaking his head. 

Telling the truth.

"Besides," Weaver added. "My grandma had something like that. I'm a believer."

"Huh," Jonathan said, leaning forward and taking a look at Weaver. "I wonder if she passed down any of it."

"You got it from your parents?" Weaver asked him.

"My mom," Jonathan said with a nod. "Charlie got it from her dad." _Technically_ , it was the truth.

"How would you know if my grandmother passed down being psychic?" Weaver sounded genuinely curious, and not as freaked out as Jonathan would have assumed.

"What could your grandma do?" Jonathan asked him. So far, the thread that seemed to link everyone with abilities seemed to be the ability to enter the Inbetween. Then again, that could have just been an extension of El's influence, everyone learning how from her example. 

Weaver shrugged. "Little things. She knew who was calling when the phone rang. If she told you to bring something with when you left the house, you listened. That sort of thing."

"Sounds like precognition," Charlie said, turning to give Jonathan an excited smile. "Is she still alive? I'd love to talk to her."

"Sadly, no," Weaver told them. "She passed away about fifteen years ago."

_I know how we could figure out whether he inherited any abilities_ , Jonathan told Charlie, before saying to Weaver, "I'm sorry to hear that."

Charlie asked, _How?_

_Turn on your power device. See if he can hear it._

Charlie shrugged and then she pressed a button on the device at her belt, which she and Nancy had disguised as a Walkman to attract less attention. Jonathan heard the sound it made, a deep soothing sort of hum that made it easier for him to use just about any of his abilities. Including the one that let him know Weaver felt suddenly surprised.

_He hears it_ , said Charlie, turning the device off again. Weaver's surprise faded, likely as he wrote off the sound as something having to do with the city traffic around them.

Jonathan agreed, _Yeah_. 

_This weekend should be interesting, at least_. 

Jonathan turned the conversation back to his initial question. "So, I'm not the best at it, but I can access a person’s memories. It works especially well if I can touch them and if we can get them to think of the memories and bring them to the surface while I'm trying to access them."

"Wow," Weaver said. "Talk about violation of privacy."

Jonathan gave a long-suffering sigh and said, "Yeah, I know. But, if it helps us find more of the kids they locked up, it's worth it."

"Kids?" Weaver asked in disbelief.

"Yeah," Charlie told him. "That's what Brown's company was into. Creating and selling kids with abilities."

"Jesus." He shook his head and pulled into a small parking lot labeled, "Law Enforcement Only." "Here I thought this was just about money laundering or pay-for-play or something. You're talking modern-day slavery."

"Yep," Charlie said, looking out the windshield at the building in front of them.

"Who else are we meeting?" Jonathan asked, looking down at the papers in his hands. "Aside from Silas Kendrick."

"I've got Robert York," Charlie said, pulling one stack of papers out of the file, and then the other. "And Ed Summers. These look like real white collar kinds of guys. No other convictions or arrests or anything?"

"No," Weaver said, parking the car and turning it off. "And they've all got great lawyers. If we don't come up with more evidence, and soon, the judge is going to have us release them. And then there goes any remaining evidence, I'm sure."

"Alright. Let's get this over with," Jonathan said, climbing out of the car.

After checking in through security, they were led to a room with a table and several chairs. Charlie rubbed at her temple, before Jonathan took her hand and helped her shore up her mental shielding. A building like this carried a lot of negative emotions, and they could really wear down on both him and Charlie if they weren't careful about keeping those shields in place.

Charlie gave him a silent thanks and they took their seats on one side of the table. It took a few minutes, but soon enough a prisoner was led in and seated across from them. He was a middle-aged man, a little round, with curly salt-and-pepper hair and a neatly-trimmed beard. His attorney was a woman who looked about ten years older than Jonathan. She wore a skirt suit with broad shoulder pads and had long, straight brown hair. 

"Mr. York," Agent Weaver said. "Mrs. Blake. It's nice to see you both again."

The attorney said, "I can't say I'm pleased to be here before eight in the morning, but your superiors must have pulled some major strings to get my client in a room with your…" She frowned at Jonathan and Charlie. "...experts."

_Can I punch her_? Charlie asked with a too-sweet tone.

Jonathan sighed. _No._

"Why am I here?" York asked as Jonathan took a pad of paper out of his bag and the pen he'd taken from his hotel room, handing them to Charlie. 

Weaver told him, "So far, we have evidence that you received money as part of a national corruption scheme. Given your profession as a building inspector, we've come to the conclusion that you were paid to sign off on the construction of some sort of facility. We would like to know where that facility is. If you wouldn't mind."

York blinked slowly and said, "I have no idea what you're talking about."

_That's a lie_ , Jonathan told Charlie. 

"Maybe all we have to do is narrow it down," Charlie said. "What part of the city were you responsible for inspecting?"

York looked over at his attorney, who nodded. Shrugging, he said, "Some of the western neighborhoods of Brooklyn."

"Have you ever inspected any underground facilities in the areas you're responsible for?" Jonathan asked, focusing on York and trying to see his memories without actually touching him. When Charlie reached out under the table, putting her left hand in his right, it got easier. 

"No, not that I can think of," York replied, which was so obviously a lie that Charlie snorted. Together they found the memories they were looking for. 

_Got an address or cross-streets or something?_ Charlie asked him.

Paging through York's memory, Jonathan landed on the one he needed. _Yeah. Kent and South 2nd._

Charlie wrote this down on her pad, which she kept tipped away from York so he couldn't see it.

"Did you know the site was being used for illegal human experiments?" Jonathan asked him.

"Wh-what?" York asked, visibly flustered. "No! Of course not."

_Huh, that's true_ , he told Charlie. 

Following up seamlessly, Weaver asked, "What did you think it was being used for?"

"I really don't know what you're talking about," York said, but then Jonathan skimmed a memory that rattled him and made him physically ill. 

Pulling his hand out of Charlie's, Jonathan pushed back from the table and put his head between his knees so he wouldn’t throw up. 

“Jesus, Byers,” said Agent Weaver. “Are you okay?”

“Ask him how he got paid,” Jonathan said, pressing the heels of his palms against his eyes, “in addition to the cash.”

“What is this?” asked Mrs. Blake. 

_She was drugged, and already pregnant, and they let him…_ Jonathan said to Charlie, only sharing the memory when she silently asked him to.

“This,” Charlie said, a feral sort of smile on her lips as she leaned forward, “is my partner floating a theory. See, we’ve been on the heels of a ring of criminals responsible for perpetrating sexual assaults.” She looked York dead in the eye. “Rapes. Against drugged and incapacitated victims.”

York suddenly felt intense dread. 

Smiling sweetly at the lawyer, Charlie continued. “My partner thinks that aside from the,” she flipped through Agent Weaver’s paperwork, “fifteen thousand dollars funneled into your client’s account, that he was also given access to a victim. As payment. _That’s_ why my partner is so disgusted.”

Jonathan took a deep breath, trying his best not to remember what had been done to him while he was drugged and restrained. 

“H-how would you ever prove that?” York asked, which made Agent Weaver sit up a little taller in his seat. Mrs. Blake gave her client a look of warning. 

“We’ve got two other interviews today,” Weaver said to them. “There’s a good chance one of them witnessed the assault. Are you sure neither one would give you up to earn himself a lighter sentence?”

York gave his attorney a worried look. 

Mrs. Blake gave her client back a long, disapproving look before saying, “I would like to have the room so my client and I can have a privileged conversation.”

“Absolutely, ma’am,” Agent Weaver said, scooping up all his papers. “Byers, Everly, with me, please?”

Jonathan let Charlie help him up, then followed her and Weaver out of the room. Once they were out in the hallway, Jonathan leaned back against the wall, closing his eyes and trying to think about anything other than what he’d seen in York’s head.

After the door closed behind them, Weaver said, “Well, that worked a treat.”

“We also got an address to check out,” Charlie said, holding up her notes so he could read them. 

Nodding, Weaver was silent for a moment before asking carefully, “And the rape angle? Where did that come from?”

“York’s memories,” Jonathan told him. “I don’t know who she is, or what happened to her after, but…” He shuddered and let Charlie pull him into a hug. 

Jonathan held onto her tightly, taking a few deep breaths before he could shake off the despair. 

Still rubbing Jonathan’s back, Charlie asked, “When was York paid by these guys?”

Weaver took the packet from his stack of papers and flipped through it. “First payment was close to three years ago. February of ‘86.”

“That’s when they must have started branching out,” Charlie said with a nod. 

“Jenny was turning six around then,” Jonathan said. “Probably able to be more accurately assessed. I wonder if their success with her led to them branching out.”

“Jenny?” Weaver asked. 

“My little sister,” Jonathan explained. “Well, I got her out of that place and then my parents adopted her, but yeah. She’s their first success story.”

“First one not associated with that Brenner guy,” Charlie added, which earned a nod from Jonathan. 

Shaking his head, Weaver said, “Well, we can only hope that the rest of today’s interviews go just as well.”

~*~

During the long break she had between her morning classes and her afternoon class, Nancy went to the Daily Northwestern office. Now that she was an upperclassman, she had her own desk to work at. It was too bad she only had school work to catch up on and no assignments for the paper.

Well, that wasn’t technically true. She had assignments through Monday’s edition, but she’d finished them all already. Thinking about her evening and the sock hop the center was putting on, Nancy had an idea. She sketched out a few specifics and then went to the editor, Troy’s, office.

“Hey,” she said, knocking on the open door. “Can I talk to you for a minute?”

Troy, who was handsome in that very country-club sort of way, with well groomed light brown hair and very straight teeth, smiled indulgently. Nancy felt like he thought of her like she was a child, even though she was only a year younger than him (not counting the year she’d spent in Cedarville). Nancy thought if she ever developed powers like El’s or Jonathan’s, she might just melt Troy’s brain so he could never condescend to her again.

“Sure,” he said. “What story of the week brings you in today? Is it another go at that drug story? I’m telling you, our audience doesn’t want to hear it. Besides, what’s new about college kids using drugs? They’ve been using them forever, at least since our parents were in college in the sixties.”

“It’s not about drugs this time,” Nancy said, taking a seat in the chair across from Troy. “It’s a spotlight piece about a local nonprofit. The Thomas Alexander Center. It’s a shelter for homeless families and teenagers. I think it’s a good way to get our student body thinking about ways they can give back. Either by gathering donations or by volunteering.”

Troy didn’t dismiss her idea right off the bat, which was a good sign. He furrowed his brow and sat back in his chair, fidgeting with his pen. “This isn’t one of those places that deals with people who have AIDS, is it? Because I don’t think we should be promoting those sorts of lifestyle choices.”

Again, if Nancy could have melted Troy’s brain with the power of her thoughts alone, she would have. Giving him a falsely sweet smile, she said, “No, of course not. Like I said, they mainly help homeless children.”

Troy nodded. “How did you find out about this place?”

“My fiancé volunteers there,” Nancy told him. “They’re actually having an event for the kids tonight. A sock hop.”

Nodding again, Troy said, “Bring me something by the end of next week. If we have a break in the important news, we can try to fit it in. Maybe around Thanksgiving! People love a feel good story around Thanksgiving.”

“It’s not a feel good story,” Nancy insisted. “It’s a profile of an institution doing something to address the very real homelessness problem in our community.”

Eyebrows raising up, Troy asked, “This center is here in Evanston?”

Nancy has to work very hard to keep the rage off her face as she replied, “No. It’s downtown.”

“So, what does it have to do with the students here? At Northwestern? Downtown is half an hour away. An hour by bus. It has noth–”

“You are kidding me if you’re trying to say that Evanston isn’t part of the Chicago metro area,” Nancy cried. “It’s in the fucking admissions brochures! We list major upcoming Chicago events in our paper every week!”

Troy laughed. He _laughed_.

“Okay, alright! Jeez! All I’m saying is maybe spend a little more time on campus, looking for stories _here_ , and a little less time with your downtown fiancé,” he said, smiling like he was trying to be helpful.

Nancy had a strong hunch that Troy’s use of “downtown” had a very bigoted connotation. 

“Fine, okay,” Nancy said, standing up and thinking that if Troy didn’t want her piece on the Alexander Center, maybe her boss at the Tribune from over the summer would. She tried not to be too sarcastic as she said, “Thanks for your excellent guidance. I’ll be sure to keep those points in mind going forward.”

“Great!” he replied. “Let me know when you find something worthy of the Daily!”

Nancy gave him a nod and left, muttering under her breath, “Too bad _you_ ’ _re_ not worthy of the Daily.”

Back at her desk, Nancy made a rough outline of the piece she wanted to write, and then finished up an essay that wasn’t due until Tuesday. Maybe over the weekend, she could spend some time picking Steve’s brain about the Alexander Center. Maybe over pancakes the following morning would be a good time. She’d have to remember to bring a notepad and a pen.


	3. Chapter 3

"Well, we got some information, anyway," Agent Weaver said as he led the way out of the Federal jail and back to his car. "I'm just not sure how to get a warrant to search an underground facility because a couple of psychics said so."

With a sigh, Jonathan said, "It was too bad we couldn't get any of them to say the address out loud. That probably would have helped."

"Well," Charlie said, "Jonathan and I are kind of extrajudicial to begin with. Why don't we go by the place? See what we can find?"

"Can you guys do that thing where you, like, touch an object, and you know where it came from?" Weaver asked, unlocking the car and getting into the driver's seat. 

"No," Jonathan told him, taking shotgun, because it was his turn, no matter how much Charlie stuck her tongue out at him. "But one of my sisters can."

With a chuckle, Weaver said, "It really does run in the family, doesn't it?"

"Something like that," he replied.

It didn't take too long to get to the address Jonathan had seen, and after Weaver parked, Jonathan led them to a run-down looking building, stopping at a chained-shut door.

"This?" Weaver asked, looking up at the building. "It looks either like it's condemned or it _should_ be."

Pressing her face against the grimy windows next to the door, Charlie said, "Yeah, I can get us inside."

"You have some bolt cutters hiding in your pocket somewhere?" Weaver asked her as Jonathan took Charlie's hand.

"No," she said with a knowing smile. "Something better."

Jonathan let Charlie 'port him along with her into the building. 

Weaver's cry of surprise was loud enough that Jonathan heard it through the door. He went to the window and waved out, telling Weaver, "Stay there! We'll be back soon."

"Jesus Christ!" he cried, but he still nodded and waved Jonathan off. 

Smiling, Charlie tilted her head back toward Weaver on the other side of the door. "He's a good man."

"Yeah, he is," Jonathan said, taking a look at the layout of the abandoned factory they found themselves in. Closing his eyes and thinking back through the memories he'd skimmed earlier, he found what he was looking for. _The door to the downstairs looks like this_ , he told Charlie, sharing the memory with her, showing her a square metal plate in the floor.

_Cool_ , she said, starting off in one direction while Jonathan took the other.

A minute later, Jonathan found it. He called Charlie over as he opened the control panel on the nearby support column and pressed the button. The metal plate moved to one side, revealing a set of stairs that went downward. A set of lights flickered on, showing that there was nothing at the bottom of the stairs except a tiled floor. 

When Charlie reached him, Jonathan started down the stairs. At first it didn't seem familiar, but when he got to the bottom and found a hallway full of doors, an uneasy sort of feeling started to creep over him.

_What is it?_ Charlie asked, catching Jonathan's hand and holding it as they walked down the hallway. 

Without answering her, Jonathan stopped in front of one of the doors and unlocked it before _pushing_ it open. It was an office, and all the drawers in the desk and in the filing cabinets were open. Empty. 

_Someone already took all the paperwork_ , Jonathan said, stepping into the room and turning on the overhead light. Charlie followed him, letting go of his hand and sitting behind the desk. She felt the undersides of the drawers, and came back with a thin file folder.

_Not all of it_ , she said, putting the folder on the desk and opening it. _Ooh, a list of names._

It was a list of names, and that was about it. Not sure what it meant, Jonathan took a picture of the list, just out of habit, and said, _Let's keep looking. Maybe there are patient records somewhere._

Charlie closed the folder and stashed it in her backpack before following Jonathan back into the hallway. _Should we check all these doors_?

_Yeah, probably,_ Jonathan said, really not looking forward to what he might find behind them. He was right when he opened the next door and found a room with a hospital bed, complete with an IV stand next to it.

Turning away from the room, Jonathan had to close his eyes and take a few deep breaths.

_Shit. That bad?_ Charlie asked.

Jonathan nodded. The corners of his eyes burned, threatening him with tears he really didn't want to shed right at the moment.

He kept his eyes closed, just listening as Charlie went into the room and searched it. _This might take us a while._

_I'll open the doors_ , Jonathan told her. Figuring if he could focus on that, instead of on getting lost in his bad memories, that he might be a little more useful. 

Charlie followed him, making quick searches of each room. When they got to the last third of the hallway, she frowned and asked, _Do you hear that_?

Jonathan almost asked her what she meant, but then he piggybacked on her senses and _there_.

It sounded like one of Nancy's power generators, only slightly off key. _Where's it coming from_?

_The end of the hallway_. 

Moving in concert with her, Jonathan met Charlie halfway, extending his hand out to catch hers. At the same time, she turned her Walkman on, boosting the power they had available to them.

_What_ is _that_? Jonathan asked as they moved closer to it. It felt like it was coming from the empty wall at the end of the hallway. 

Then Charlie asked him, _Wasn’t there a door here?_

Jonathan couldn’t remember whether there had been one or not, but he had an idea. _What if we flatten the sound out, like when we have to repair ‘port sites?_

_Might work,_ Charlie said with a nod, starting the process, with Jonathan jumping in a second later. 

Whatever it was they were flattening began to fall, and that was when Jonathan recognized that there was another mind behind it. Someone else was in the facility with them!

What Jonathan now realized was an illusion fell the rest of the way and the person behind it raised a gun.

“Wait!” Jonathan cried as he recognized the person’s intent. “Don’t–”

The gun went off just as Charlie disappeared. He felt her reappear in the open door beside him, taking his hand and pulling him out of the hallway.

“We’re not here to hurt you!” Jonathan cried out, at the same time, asking Charlie, _Are you okay?_

_Good_ , she replied. He didn't have time to be relieved the bullet missed her, so Jonathan turned his attention to the shooter. 

He could tell now that it was a woman, and she was fairly young, if he wasn’t mistaken. 

“We’re like you, okay?” Jonathan told her. “We’re here to find answers. To bring these monsters to justice.”

A figure ran past the open door, but Jonathan heard the off-key sound of it and put his hand on Charlie’s wrist. _Just an illusion_.

_Who is this_? Charlie asked.

Jonathan shrugged. “We don’t want to hurt you,” he called out, carefully peering around the door jamb. “Can I come talk to you, or are you gonna shoot?”

“What if I don’t want to hear what you have to say?” she called back, and something about her voice was familiar. 

Jonathan closed his eyes and got a better feel for the mind at the end of the hallway. He had only met her briefly, several years ago, but he did recognize her. 

“Kali, it’s Jonathan. Eleven’s brother,” he told her, recognizing her surprise. “She got us both out of that place, remember? The things they did to you, they did to me too.”

He felt the way her attitude started to change, and she called out, “Who is that with you?”

“Her name is Charlie. She’s like us,” Jonathan assured her.

“She disappeared.” Kali sounded distressed by this fact. 

“She can teleport, okay? She wasn’t just going to let you shoot her.”

“You trust her?”

Jonathan took half a step out of the room and told Kali, "With my life."

Kali stood at the end of the hallway, next to the door Jonathan had remembered. She gave a slow nod before asking, "What is she to you?"

"Family," Jonathan replied, taking another step out of the room, bringing Charlie with him. "She's my family. She's El's family."

Another step brought Charlie out into the hallway. She gave a little wave with her free hand. "Hey."

Pressing her lips together, Kali looked back and forth between Jonathan and Charlie. After a moment, Kali asked, "Why wasn't she there? When your family pulled us out of that Execugen place? Why wasn't she there?"

"We didn't know about each other yet," Jonathan explained. "I only found her a year ago."

Narrowing her eyes, Kali took a step forward. "Where was she before then? Do you know? Do you know _for sure_ you can trust her?"

"Yes," Jonathan said, taking a better look at Kali and reading her emotions. "Why are you so scared? What happened to you?"

"Execugen happened to me," she spat angrily, gesturing to the facility around them. "They captured me. They held me and tortured me. And I still don't know how they found me in the first place."

Jonathan sighed and nodded. "We're helping the FBI bring everyone associated with any of these places to justice."

"The FBI?" Kali said, tightening her grip on the gun in her hand. 'You can't trust them. You can't trust any of them."

"We won't tell them about you," Charlie said. "Can't you sense that we're telling the truth?"

"No," Kali said sharply. "I may be Jane's sister, but I'm _not_ like you."

Jonathan gestured to Charlie's Walkman. "Turn that off for a second."

Charlie did so, but she kept her eyes trained on Kali.

"Now turn it back on, please," Jonathan said. Once Charlie did, he asked Kali, "Can you hear that?"

Furrowing her brow, she said, "Yes." She took another step closer before asking, "What is that?"

"It's the energy that allows us to do the things we can do," Jonathan told her. "If you can hear it, you _are_ like us."

"Normal people can't hear it," Charlie added.

Frowning again and crossing her arms, Kali wasn't impressed. 

"How did you find this place?" Jonathan asked, still holding onto Charlie, just in case. 

"I met one of their victims," Kali told them. "She remembered where this building was."

"Is she okay?" Jonathan asked.

Kali shook her head. "She's pregnant and they dumped her out on the street."

"Shit," Jonathan said. "Maybe we can get someone to help her. I know Owens has provided for a bunch of the Illinois victims."

"No cops," Kali insisted. "No government at all. They lie."

"Yeah," Jonathan said in agreement. "Or they make you work for them so your family doesn't have to go on the run."

"The Execugen people _are_ government. They would have done the same to me as they did to the women here." Kali told him. "I remember them talking about it. About a general overseeing their work. About a new subject they'd captured. They said he was the strongest they'd ever seen. They were going to use his _sample_ on me." She shuddered with disgust.

Jonathan shifted uncomfortably. "They were talking about me, weren't they?"

"If you were the one they captured just days before Jane came for us," Kali said, "then yes."

_Jane?_ asked Charlie.

_El_ , Jonathan replied. _Jane was the name her birth mother gave her._

_Ah._

Jonathan gave Kali a long look before asking her, "Do you want to help make sure places like this don't happen to anyone else?"

"Of course," Kali told him, taking a step closer. "But right now, I need to find someone. He's like us, and I considered him a friend, but if he had anything to do with…"

"Uh-oh," Charlie said. "That's the way I talk about my ex."

Narrowing her eyes at Charlie, Kali told them, "He's the one who got close to me. If he was the one who drugged me and turned me over to those monsters? I have to make sure he's not doing this to someone else." She took a polaroid out of her pocket. "If you're like Jane, can you…?"

Sighing, Jonathan shook his head. "I have to have met a person face-to-face to be able to find them. But I can do the next best thing."

Closing his eyes, Jonathan contacted El with a quick, _I need you_.

_Just a minute_ , she said, and Jonathan dropped all the way into the Inbetween. He watched El raise her hand and then leave the classroom.

To Kali, he said, _Take my hand_ , and when she did, he pulled her Inbetween with him. Together, they watched El go into the school bathroom, sit down, and close her eyes.

As soon as El joined them, she smiled at Kali and pulled her into a hug. "Sister."

Kali returned the hug and Jonathan felt the way she relaxed, like she considered El a safe place the same way he did.

"What are you doing in New York?"

Jonathan felt Charlie's hand on his shoulder, telling him she was there and keeping a lookout.

"I'm looking for someone," Kali told El, taking a sharp breath when she noticed Will standing with them all of a sudden.

"Sorry," El said, putting a comforting hand on Kali's back. "I should have warned you. When you get one of us, you kind of get all of us."

Jenny showed up next, her presence faint as she took Will's hand and looked up at him. 

"It's okay," Will told her. "Kali is a friend."

"I remember her," Jenny said, giving Kali a wave. 

Looking a lot closer to smiling than she had been before, Kali waved back.

Then El asked, "Who do you want us to find?"

Kali produced the polaroid from her pocket, holding it out to El, who gently took it from her.

El concentrated on the picture for a moment before looking up. The man was sitting at a bar, drinking and talking to someone.

"Yeah," the man said, reaching over and touching the other person, who suddenly came into focus. She was a woman with a wide smile and straight, black hair. "It's crazy how one drink just makes all the bullshit fall away."

Jonathan couldn't hear the woman's reply as El changed her focus to the bar itself, looking for clues to where it might be.

Will's hand gently squeezed Jonathan's shoulder, and Jonathan realized his brother could probably tell how _hard_ it was for Jonathan still, to see people drinking and not feel envious.

"Outlaw Ale House," Kali said. "So my contact was right and he _is_ here in New York." Taking El's hands, Kali said, "Thank you, sister. You have no idea what this means to me."

"You're welcome," El told her with a soft smile. "I have to get back to class."

"Me too," Will said, squeezing Jonathan's shoulder again. "Stay safe."

"You, too," Jonathan replied. He pulled Kali up out of the Inbetween with him.

"What are you going to do?" Jonathan asked Kali as she put her gun away. 

Kali looked at Jonathan for a long moment before saying, "I'm going to make sure he doesn't hurt that girl." Then she nodded toward the door behind her. "Those are stairs. There's a locked file room two floors down. It might have what you're looking for."

"Thanks," Jonathan said, giving Kali a smile. "Good luck."

Kali nodded, then headed for the stairs that led back up to the abandoned factory above. Jonathan opened the door Kali had been hiding, and did find stairs heading downward. They reminded him of having Mike and Dustin help him climb the stairs out of the Execugen hospital. They reminded him of Steve carrying Jenny away from her prison.

He took a deep breath and started down them.

~*~

“Okay, the punch bowl goes on that table,” Julia said, pointing across the room. Steve nodded and brought the bowl over there. Just after he set it down, the door at the front of the center opened, and a kid hurried in. 

When he spotted Steve, the kid ran directly at him. Steve saw it was Jake, a sixteen-year-old kid that had lived at the shelter for a few months after his mom kicked him out. “Steve!” he hissed in a quiet voice. “You’ve gotta hide me, man. I gotta… They can’t find me!”

“Yeah, okay,” Steve said, trying to think quickly, a bad feeling twisting up his gut. Julia’s back was turned, so Steve led Jake over to the front office. Pushing him into the dark room, Steve said, “Get under the desk. Don’t move until I come for you.”

Jake nodded. Steve closed the office door as quietly as he could and went back to Julia, grabbing the stacks of plastic cups she pointed him toward. He got halfway back through the open lounge area before the door opened again. 

Two big guys came through it, and Steve got even more of a bad feeling than he’d had before. “Uh, hey, guys,” Steve called out to them. “Can I help you? Let me guess, you want to donate to our cause?” He gave them a smile he hoped wasn’t too nervous.

“You see a black kid run in here?” The first guy asked, looking around. “He was wearing a red shirt.”

“No,” Steve said, looking over at Julia, who shook her head too. “But I mean, we are a youth shelter. And actually, we’re supposed to ID all visitors and have them sign our visitor’s log. You know, to protect the kids. Do you mind?” Steve gave the friendliest smile he was capable of, meeting the guy’s eyes for a long moment without looking away. 

Eventually, the guy said, “Nah, we were just leaving.”

“Oh, okay. No donation today? Yeah, I get it. Thanks for stopping by!”

The guy gave Steve a dismissive wave and followed his friend out the door. 

Julia frowned at Steve and asked him, “I wonder what that was all about?

“Yeah, who knows?” Steve replied with a shrug. “Will you excuse me for a sec?”

Steve went back to the office. “Hey, man. The coast is clear.”

Jake climbed out from behind the desk, giving a heavy sigh. “Thanks, Steve. I owe you one.” He tried to walk through the office door past Steve, but he stopped Jake with a hand on his chest.

“Hang on. What the hell was that about?” Steve asked, giving Jake a hard look.

Jake looked away for a long moment before sighing. “I…” He shook his head. “Never mind.”

“No,” Steve insisted. “No 'never mind.' Why were you so scared of those guys?”

Jake frowned and jutted his chin forwards crossing his arms over his chest. 

“Yeah. I know how to do that too,” Steve said, mimicking his posture for a second before smiling. “Come on. Just tell me what’s going on. I can probably help.”

With a hint of a smile, Jake said, “Okay, fine. But maybe,” he looked around at the front area, where kids would start arriving in a couple hours to dance and have some fun. “Maybe we can head back to the kitchen? Sit down?”

“Yeah,” Steve agreed. “Yeah, sure.” For a second Steve thought Jake was about to run, but his demeanor changed just slightly, and he followed Steve all the way to the kitchen. Steve poured Jake a glass of water and sat him down at one of the dining tables. “So, what the hell was that?”

After taking a few long gulps of water, Jake said, “You know how Leo helped me get that job as a dishwasher at Gina’s?”

Steve nodded. 

“So, I was at work today.”

“Just now?”

Jake nodded, which made Steve sigh. It was Friday, a school day, which meant Jake had either skipped school to work, or he’d dropped out again. Deciding to table that discussion for another time, Steve asked, “What happened at work?”

"I took the trash out into the alley, and those guys," he said, pointing to the door, "were out there. They were putting what looked like a body into the trunk of a car."

Steve leaned back in his chair. "Shit."

"Yeah," Jake said, shaking his head and looking down at his hands. "When they looked up and spotted me, I made a break for it. Ran straight here."

"You didn't recognize any of those guys?"

"No, I _did_ ," Jake said with a grimace. "Those guys have lunch at Gina's almost every day. They take up this booth in the back, and people come to see them."

"That's weird," Steve said. "Who does business out of a pizza res–" Steve closed his eyes. "Oh, crap."

"What?" Jake shifted in his chair, making it squeak. "Steve? What is it?"

"They sound like the mob, Jake," he replied. 

His eyes going wide, Jake said, "Oh, shit!" He stood up and paced a few steps before turning back and asking, "What am I gonna do?"

“We’ll figure something out,” Steve promised. “Just stick close to me for now. Don’t leave the building until we have a plan.” 

Fidgeting with his fingers, Jake asked, “Are you going to call the cops?”

“Yeah, if we have to,” Steve said, but right away he saw how nervous the suggestion made him. “Okay, _only_ if we have to. I promise.”

Jake nodded. “Okay, Steve. Yeah, okay.”

~*~

“Hey,” Charlie said, paging through a file from her stack. “I’ve got a personnel file here for someone named Ezra Parsons. It lists an ability here. Telepathic emotional manipulation. What do you think that means?”

“Well, telepathic. That means he’s gotta he like us, right?” Jonathan asked, scooting over closer to her and taking the file she held out to him. “But he’s working for Execugen?” Skimming through the pages, he noted a few documented instances of Parsons provoking emotions in people, from a distance. Sadness, joy, _trust_.

Jonathan was reminded of the time Will had convinced Jonathan’s history professor to let him take his midterm a day late. And then he remembered the way Jenny mentioned Will always being able to make her feel better. It couldn’t be the same thing, could it?

The way Parsons had used his ability, according to this record, was to find suitable subjects and get them to trust him. He was responsible for bringing in _dozens_ of people. And not just here in New York. If this file was right, he’d been hunting and capturing people with abilities for _years_. All over the country. 

Jonathan flipped to the front page of the file and looked at the picture stapled there. “Shit,” he said, standing up. “This is the guy we need to find for Weaver’s case. He’s also the guy Kali went after.”

“I got the impression she was gonna kill him,” Charlie said, letting Jonathan help her to her feet. “We have to get to him first, right? He’s not much use to us dead.”

“Right,” Jonathan said, gathering up as many of the files as he could into one of the banker's boxes they’d been going through. “We should move fast. She’s at least half an hour ahead of us.”

Looking up, Charlie said, “We’re not the only ones in here anymore.” She flipped on the power device at her belt and held out her hand. “C’mon. We’ll blink right past ‘em.”

Jonathan grabbed her hand, double checked her aim, and then let her ‘port him to the alley outside the building. They turned the corner, finding Agent Weaver there with a bevy of NYPD cops, the front door of the building now wide open. 

_We can’t let those cops take these files_ , Jonathan said to Charlie. _Can we get Weaver over here somehow?_

_Can try_ , Charlie replied. Then, Jonathan heard it when Charlie called out toward him, _Hey, Weaver! Look to your right!_

Jonathan could read even from this distance how surprised Weaver was. He looked in their direction and Charlie waved at him. After a moment, Weaver excused himself from the other cops and came over to them. 

“Was that…?” he asked as he approached them, pointing back toward where he’d been standing. “Was that you?”

Nodding, Charlie said, “Cool, huh?”

Gesturing toward the front doors of the building, Jonathan asked, “What’s with all the cops?”

“Someone called in, said they saw someone climbing into one of the upper windows. You guys were in there for over an hour. I didn’t know what to tell them when the cops showed up. Said I was investigating a lead.” He gestured to the box in Jonathan’s hands. “You got something?”

“There’s a lot more left in the building,” Jonathan told him. “Lots of evidence of what was going on here. Are you sure you want NYPD finding it?”

“These guys had a building inspector on the payroll,” Charlie pointed out. “Nothing saying they don’t also have a few cops…”

“Shit,” Weaver said. “Come with me.”

Jonathan let Charlie go ahead of them, and they both followed Weaver back toward all the excitement. 

Weaver called out, "Hey! Everyone! I need everyone out of the building! There's a possible bioweapon on the premises! Call your men back out of the building! Now!"

"Got it," said one of the police officers, before getting on his radio and calling for a retreat.

"Good thinking," Charlie said quietly to Weaver. "How long will it take to get your guys here to secure the area?"

"Too long," he muttered, shaking his head. "Now that I've invoked the word 'bioweapon,' things are gonna get real sticky, real fast."

"Shit," Jonathan said, shifting the box in his arms to rest against one hip. "We don't have time to wait for all this. If we're gonna get that guy…"

"What guy?" Weaver asked.

"He's got abilities, like us," Charlie said. She pointed to the box in Jonathan’s arms. "These papers say he was working for them. He found and kidnapped people with abilities for them.”

Weaver frowned for a long moment, then said. “If I give you my car, can you track him down?”

“We can try,” Jonathan said, looking over at Charlie, who nodded. “Do you know where Outlaw Ale House is?”

"No. Is that where he is?"

Nodding, Jonathan told him, "As of half an hour ago."

Weaver sighed, his hands on his hips for a moment, and then he said, "I can find out. Come on." He gestured them toward his car, where Jonathan set down the box of papers, and then tapped on the shoulder of one of the NYPD officers. "Can I get an address on Outlaw Ale House? It's probably nothing, but I want to have my assistants check it out."

"Sure," the officer said, calling up dispatch on his radio. He wrote down the address on a page of his notepad, tore it out, and handed it to Weaver.

Weaver handed the paper to Charlie, and handed the car keys to Jonathan. Charlie frowned, but Jonathan had seen her drive, and no way was he giving up the keys.

_Asshole_ , Charlie said.

Jonathan smiled at her.

"There's a map of the city in the glove box," Weaver said. "You'll want to head north first."

"Thanks," Jonathan told him. "We'll find you when we're done."

"You'd better," Weaver told them, a hint of humor in his voice. He gave them one last wave, and then started walking toward the building.

~*~

Steve planned to have a break for a quick early dinner between finishing set up and when the sock hop began. He told Jake, “I’m gonna take a look around outside. If the coast is clear, I think we should try to get you out of the area. Do you have anyone you’re staying with?”

Jake shrugged and shook his head.

“Where’s all your stuff?” Steve asked, leaning back against the wall of the back hallway.

“Don’t have all that much anymore,” Jake said. “I had a bag I left at work, and I’ve got a hiding place at this one house where I’ve been squatting. It’s pretty– well, no one’s found it so far.”

“Okay,” Steve said with a sigh, scratching his eyebrow. “I think we’re gonna have to call the bag at work gone for good. If you’re right, and those guys spend a lot of time at Gina’s, then it’s probably not even safe for me to go asking after it.”

Jonathan, on the other hand, could probably get the bag back. Steve hated the fact that Jonathan was out of town, and not for all the favors he could do if he was here. Mostly Steve hated the feeling like he was missing something. Like he’s forgotten something important, and it should be in his hand, but it wasn’t. 

So, yeah, Steve missed his husband. He could admit it, to himself if no one else. 

This here, helping Jake, was all on Steve. He could do this. It wasn’t like this was going up against someone with superpowers. These were normal guys. Sure, they were normal guys who probably had guns, but they were still normal. Steve had battled a 20-foot flesh monster before. He could handle a couple of low-lifes stalking a kid. 

He told Jake, “Wait right here. I’m going to look around. If the coast is clear, I’ll come get you. If not, I’ll probably go get a sandwich or something for dinner. Hey, you want something?”

“I can grab something from the pantry,” Jake said, pointing toward where they kept the food meant to feed anyone who needed it. The problem was, most of that food was ingredients, not already-prepared meals. 

“Nah, come on,” Steve told him. “I’ll feed you.” He nudged Jake’s foot with his own shoe and said, “If it makes you feel any better, it’s my asshole dad’s money.”

Jake laughed and nodded. “Yeah, that kinda does make me feel better. Okay.”

With Jake’s sandwich order written on the back of a receipt from his wallet, Steve left the Alexander Center through the only exit that didn’t have a fire alarm, the front door. 

It didn’t take Steve long to clock the guys sitting in the black sedan across the street. He was pretty sure they were the guys from earlier, and he didn’t want to risk Jake’s life on the slight possibility that these were two other, completely innocent guys. 

Steve wondered if they still had the body in their trunk. Gross. They probably didn't, right? They couldn’t be _that_ stupid, could they? Steve thought about calling the cops on them, but he’d heard the rumors. Everyone in town had. The mafia owned the cops. Steve wasn’t about to take his chances that they’d get a cop who wasn’t dirty. Those chances were too slim to bet Jake’s life on.


	4. Chapter 4

When Jonathan drove past Outlaw Ale House, he already knew that Kali wasn't inside. _Either we missed her or she's not here yet_ , Jonathan told Charlie. 

_We should still go in and make sure the target isn't here_ , she told him. 

Jonathan agreed, so he parked the car in a loading zone, and left the red and blue lights flashing. Hopefully that was okay. Maybe he should get one of Owens' people to give him some sort of rule book for federal agents. It might answer a lot of the questions he had about how to go about this job they wanted him to do. Or he should just pick Robin's brain someday when they both had the time.

Charlie led the way into the bar, and it took Jonathan until he was three steps inside to realize that he was legally allowed to be inside a bar now. His twenty-first birthday had come and gone a couple weeks back, and he'd been so busy being embarrassed about all the fuss, he hadn't realized the significance of the age. After all, he'd celebrated his twentieth birthday twice, so it was hard to think his age meant much of anything anymore. He also knew it wasn't a good idea for him to spend time in a bar, so the concept still sort of lived in that "forbidden" category of his brain.

Charlie, on the other hand, had been a waitress at a bar and grill for several years. And although her relationship with alcohol was complicated, it wasn’t quite as fraught as Jonathan’s. For that, he was grateful. Maybe it skipped a generation.

 _I don’t see him_ , Charlie said, looking around the bar. _You wanna check if he’s in the men’s room_?

 _No one’s back there right now_ , Jonathan replied. _How are we supposed to find him now? We can’t pull El out of school again._

Charlie took Jonathan’s elbow and rugged him toward the door. _She’ll be out of school for the weekend soon._

Then Jonathan had an idea. He took the car keys out of his pocket and gave them to Charlie. _Maybe I can’t track Parsons. But I might know Kali well enough to find her. If she’s with him or following him…_

 _Got it._ Charlie grinned and got into the driver’s seat of Weaver’s sedan. 

Jonathan got into the passenger seat, made sure his seat belt was tightly fastened, and closed his eyes. He thought about Kali, about how her presence made him feel (uncertain, but with the sort of camaraderie that comes from shared traumatic experiences). Searching for these, he found her. She wasn’t too far away, but she was riding on the subway, watching Ezra Parsons from a distance. 

He heard that same dissonant buzz around her, and was sure she was masking her appearance so Parsons wouldn’t recognize her. 

With Kali’s mind pinpointed, Jonathan opened his eyes and began giving Charlie directions. 

~*~

Nancy pulled into the youth center parking lot a few minutes before six. She checked her makeup in the mirror, which she realized was silly, because the only people here were children (who probably wouldn’t notice if something was off), Steve’s coworkers (who were people sweet enough to want to help kids), and Steve (who saw her every morning without any makeup on). 

Still, something about it being a special occasion made Nancy want to look nice. As she went into the center, right away she saw Leo, who she’d met at the pride parade back in June. 

“Hey!” he said, greeting her with a warm handshake. “Nancy! Couldn’t miss the hippest party in town, huh?”

Looking around at all the kids dancing and talking and drinking cups of punch, Nancy nodded. “Definitely the place to be.”

Leo laughed, and then said, “I think I saw Steve head toward the kitchen a few minutes ago.” He pointed in that direction. 

“Thanks!” Nancy said, heading around the children and past some parents, into a hallway. 

There was a swinging door that looked like it might go to a kitchen, so Nancy stuck her head in. It looked enough like a kitchen that she called, “Steve? Are you here?”

“Nancy!” Steve called from somewhere inside the room. She took a few steps in, and then saw Steve stick his head out from behind what looked like storage shelves. He looked worried about something. “Hey.”

“What’s wrong?” she asked, joining Steve and finding him standing with a teenager who was eating a sandwich. 

“So, minor complication about tonight’s plans,” Steve said, taking Nancy’s hand and wincing a little. “Jake saw some shit,” he gestured to the kid, “and now there’s a couple of mob guys outside waiting for him.”

“How do you know they’re the mob?” Nancy asked, which made Steve give her a dry look. 

“Who else puts a body in the trunk of a car, then waits around for five hours outside at a kid's shelter on a Friday night?” Steve asked. 

Nancy had to concede, “Fair point.”

Steve turned to the kid, asking him, "Jake? Who are you living with these days? Are they going to miss you?"

Looking down the kid shrugged. "Not really living anywhere these days. It's usually full here by the time I get off work, so I…" He didn't fill in the blank, but Nancy could make a few guesses, none of them good.

"You're coming home with us tonight," Nancy said, noticing the way Steve widened his eyes in surprise. She told Steve, "Well, we can't just…"

"No, I agree," he told her. "And we've still got that extra bed in Charlie's room."

"Really?" Jake asked them. "But, how are we going to get there without those guys seeing us?"

"I think we're going to have to leave while everyone else is leaving." Steve said. "That means hanging out for a few more hours."

Looking at Jake, Nancy said, "We should also change your appearance. Is there an extra set of clothes we could put him in?" She directed this question to Steve. "A lost-and-found or something?"

"We have some donated clothes," Steve said with a snap of his fingers. "Come on, kid. Let's make you a disguise."

Jake stood up and looked back and forth between Steve and Nancy. "Who _are_ you guys? Spies?"

Nancy shared a look with Steve, who chuckled and said, "Nah. Just married to one."

"What? Really?"

Steve gave a convincing roll of his eyes and said, "I'm kidding, obviously."

"We watch a lot of spy movies," Nancy told the kid as Steve led him away.

Nancy wandered out to the main lounge area where the dance was being held, watching the kids have what looked like a well-deserved good time. A minute later Leo found her, asking, "Did you find Steve?"

"Yeah," Nancy replied with a smile. "He's just helping one of the kids with a wardrobe issue. He should be out here soon."

"Great," Leo said. Then he gave Nancy a look.

"What?" she asked him.

With a pleading-sort of grin, Leo said, "I could use another punchbowl monitor. Mary is getting tired."

"What would I be monitoring the punchbowl for?" Nancy asked, raising an eyebrow.

With a long-suffering, if amused, sigh, Leo said, "There's been a rumor that some of the older teenagers might try to spike it."

"I can't imagine the parents of the younger kids would appreciate that happening," Nancy said, giving Leo a mock salute. "I'm on it."

It was only about an hour later when the families with the youngest kids started leaving. The punch bowl empty, Nancy found Steve and asked him, "Are we ready?"

"Yeah, almost. You?"

"Just one more thing to check." Looking around, Nancy pulled Steve into the office. Making sure no one except for Steve could see her, Nancy took her gun out of her purse and flipped open the revolver, checking to make sure it was loaded. It was. She made sure the safety was on and snapped the gun back into its holster, which made sure the safety wouldn’t get jostled accidentally. 

“You really gonna shoot some mob guy?” Steve asked her, taking a wisp of her hair and tucking it into one of the pins holding it up. 

“Shot some federal marshals back in February,” Nancy said. “I feel even less guilt over possibly shooting some organized crime thug.”

“Yeah, but those thugs have very violent friends. Who hold grudges.”

“I can hold a grudge too,” Nancy told him, taking Steve's elbow and leading him back out to the dance. "Where's Jake?"

"Just over there with Leo," Steve said, pointing. Then he nodded over toward the front door. "It looks like a lot of people are about to head out. Let's try to move with them."

"Agreed."

The sun had just started going down, hopefully making it harder to differentiate Jake from the crowd. Nancy kept her eyes up and her hand in her purse as they moved with the largest group out to the parking lot. She and Steve kept Jake on the far side from where the mob guys were loitering, and when they got to the car, Steve said, "Come lay down in the back, okay?"

"Yeah," Jake said, scrambling into the car. 

Nancy nodded Steve toward the driver’s seat, just in case they had to return fire. They left the center’s parking lot, heading north, toward home. She watched the traffic behind them as best she could, but all the headlights in the side mirror looked the same. No one started shooting, at least. 

A couple minutes later, Nancy asked Steve, “Does it look like anyone’s following us?”

“Not that I can see?” he replied. “God, I hope there’s a parking spot close to the building.”

“It’s still early for a Friday,” she said. “People might still be out.”

“Or everyone’s at the bars and parked on our street.”

Nancy didn’t bother to respond. 

Eventually they found some parking (okay but not great) and rushed to the alley that ran behind their building, the better to hide in. Nancy didn’t notice anyone following them, and they managed to get into the building and close the door behind them, locking out anyone who might have been behind them. 

As they took the back stairs up to the second floor, Jake asked, “Huh. What’s that sound?”

Nancy tried to listen for what Jake was talking about, but she couldn't pick out anything unusual. "What does it sound like?" she asked the boy as they got to the landing halfway up the stairs to the second floor.

Shrugging, Jake replied, "Like a humming noise, but nice." He tilted his head and went straight to their apartment door when he reached the top. "It sounds like it's coming from in here."

Looking over at Nancy, Steve said, "I bet Jonathan forgot to turn it off."

Nancy didn't have to ask Steve what he was talking about. There was only one thing in the apartment that Jonathan could hear and Nancy and Steve couldn't. Intrigued, Nancy put her key in the lock and led the way into the apartment, turning on the lights as she passed them. Then she walked to the corner of the room, where the device she'd built for Jonathan sat on the end table beside the futon. 

Putting her finger on the power button, Nancy watched Jake's face as she turned it off. His brows furrowed and he frowned as he pointed at the device.

"What _is_ that?" he asked.

Sharing a look with Steve, Nancy told Jake, "It's an electromagnetic waveform generator. It's a physics thing. Hyper-dimensional string theory."

"Okay, okay, nerd," Steve said, giving Nancy a smile when she stuck her tongue out at him. He put a hand on Jake's shoulder and said, "Not everyone can hear that thing. Nancy and I can't."

Brows furrowed, Jake pointed at the device and asked, "So, why do you have it?"

"Our roommate," Nancy said at the same time Steve said, "Our husband."

Nancy shot Steve a look, but he shrugged. Gesturing to him, Steve said, "Jake's cool. Right, Jake?"

"Your husband?" Jake asked, looking back and forth between the two of them. "Like, both of you? How…?"

"Unofficially," Steve said, taking off his jacket and hanging it in the closet by the front door, which he locked while he was over there. "Yeah, we know. It's weird. But it makes us happy, so why not?"

Jake looked over at Nancy, like he wanted to know whether Steve was telling the truth or not. Nancy nodded. "He's out of town this weekend, but yeah. We all live here together."

Jake took a seat on the couch, almost like he needed to sit down, but then he smiled and nodded. "That's kinda awesome. Can't let the man tell you who to love!"

With a laugh, Steve said, "Exactly."

Pointing over to the device again, Jake asked, "So, your guy can hear this thing?"

"His name is Jonathan," Nancy told him, sitting at the table. "And yeah. So can most of the people in Jonathan's family."

Licking his lips and clasping his hands together, he asked, "So, what? You either hear it or you don't? What does it mean?"

Sharing a look with Steve, Nancy carefully said, "It's a little different for everyone. I wish Jonathan was here. He could explain it better."

Steve said, "I have an idea," and went to the phone. Picking it up, he asked Jake, "You're sure there's no one going to miss you this weekend?"

"Just my social worker," Jake told him. "But she only checks on me, like, once a month. If she can find me."

"Great." Steve dialed the phone, and Nancy guessed who he was calling before he said, "Hi, Mom. It's Steve."

"Mom?" Jake asked Nancy quietly.

"Jonathan's mom," Nancy told him. "But she kind of adopted Steve a few years ago."

“Yeah, hi,” Steve said into the phone, before pausing for a second. “No, not exactly. But I found someone I think the twins should meet.”

“Twins?” Jake asked Nancy. 

“Jonathan’s brother and sister,” she told him.

Steve responded to Joyce, “Yeah, could we? … No, he and Charlie are in New York. … Yeah, cool? Awesome. See you tomorrow. Love you too. Bye.”

As Steve hung up, Nancy asked him, “We’re driving to Springfield in the morning?”

“Yeah,” Steve said, leaning back against the kitchen counter. “If that’s alright with you?” he asked Jake.

“To go see Jonathan’s family? Without him?” Jake asked, hugging himself a little. “I don’t know…”

“Think about it this way,” Steve said, crossing the room and sitting on the other end of the couch from Jake, “if we get you out of town, those mob guys will eventually forget about you.”

“Oh, right,” Nancy said, remembering a thought she’d had earlier in the night. “We should loop Robin in on the whole mob murder thing.” Nancy thought if she could get some names out of Robin’s investigation, she might actually have a good story to bring Troy for once. He’d have to stop overlooking her and condescending to her if she brought an article like that to the table. 

“You wanna call her?” Steve asked. “I’ll get our man Jake here all set for the night.”

“It’s barely eight o’clock,” Jake said. “I don’t need to go to sleep yet. Not sure I even could...”

Rolling his eyes, Steve asked, “Okay, what would you like to do? We should probably stick here, just in case those gangsters show up again.”

“TV?” Jake asked. 

“Yep,” Steve said, giving Nancy a relieved sort of look. “We’ve got one of those.” He grabbed the remote from the side table and said, “Let’s see if we can find something good.”

As Nancy went to the bedroom, to call Robin from the extension in there, she again had the thought that Steve was really good with kids. Not for the first time in the year since Cedarville had happened, Nancy found herself regretting the fact that Steve didn’t get to be part of Charlie’s childhood. 

Things were better this way. Nancy didn’t have to try to juggle Northwestern and a toddler at the same time. And just because things were better, it didn’t have to prevent her from grieving over the fact that she hadn’t been able to bring Charlie home. Not the way she wanted to, anyway.

Nancy took a deep breath and tried to remind herself not to dwell on the past too long. Not unless there were lessons she could learn from it. 

Right now, her past with Jonathan was telling her not to let Jake struggle alone with his abilities – whatever they might turn out to be. Not _alone_.

~*~

Jonathan and Charlie followed a winding trail through New York, around Brooklyn, into Manhattan, and then up into the Bronx. Projecting weariness, Charlie asked Jonathan, "Are you sure this time?"

Closing his eyes and thinking about Kali and where she was, and the direction in which he could sense her, Jonathan nodded. "Yeah. I'm sure. We're going in the right direction. I think we're getting close."

Wordlessly, Charlie nodded and followed traffic through the city. The tall buildings and crowded streets of Manhattan transitioned to shorter buildings and greener spaces that reminded him more of Chicago than what he'd seen of New York so far.

"I think she's in a house," Jonathan told her, closing his eyes every so often to better visit Kali. “We’re getting close.”

"What's she doing?" Charlie asked him.

Jonathan replied, "Waiting."

"For who? Parsons?"

Jonathan shrugged. "Can't read her that well from this far away. Maybe she's waiting for us."

"Yeah, maybe," Charlie muttered, turning when Jonathan pointed. "Maybe she already killed Parsons. Dumped his body somewhere."

"Can't say I blame her too much," Jonathan replied. 

He felt Charlie's sharp surprise, though she kept the emotion from showing on her face or in the steadiness of her breath.

"You think she's justified? Killing this guy?"

"Kind of," Jonathan replied, feeling the dark weight of his response settle in his chest. "If he betrayed her and turned her over to those people? If he's done the same thing to dozens of others? He deserved it.”

“Jonathan,” Charlie said, her voice low and careful. “You usually… I mean, this isn’t… Wouldn’t you rather have him put on trial?”

Sighing, his cheeks feeling hot with shame, Jonathan admitted, “You’re right. I know you’re right. It’s just hard to separate…” He shook his head. “I’m still so _angry_ about what they did to me. And I wasn’t even there that long. What they’ve done to the others? To the women they…? All those kids?” Feeling sick again, Jonathan closed his eyes and dropped his head down into his hands. “It’s _infuriating._ ”

“It is,” Charlie agreed. “Hey, I’m all for kicking this asshole a few times while he’s down. I’m just thinking we don’t want to _become_ like him. We’re better than that.”

Jonathan’s eyes watered, so he wiped at them with his hand and sniffled. “Yeah. We are. We can’t let Owens use us like those Execugen bastards used this guy. We _are_ better than that.”

“Yes,” Charlie said emphatically, reaching one hand over and squeezing Jonathan’s arm. “How close are we now?”

“I think it’s more to the right,” Jonathan told her, closing his eyes so he could better locate Kali. “Yeah, right a block or two.”

He felt the car turn, and it was just a couple seconds before he told Charlie, “Now left. We’re really close.”

The car turned again, and then Charlie said, “I’ll park here.”

Jonathan opened his eyes and had to close them again as Charlie tried several times before she was able to parallel park Agent Weaver’s car. 

“How did you get your driver’s license?” he asked her when she finally put the car in park.

Charlie scoffed and hit him, but she was smirking a little when she got out of the car. Jonathan followed, stepping out onto the sidewalk. His senses told him that Kali was in the house down the block, a narrow two-story post-war duplex with about four feet of front lawn. Watching the house, Jonathan got an uneasy feeling. He reached for Charlie, taking her hand in his, and using the extra power she provided to strengthen his shields. After helping Charlie shore up hers as well, Jonathan searched the house for more minds. As far as he could tell, it was only Kali inside.

Approaching the house carefully, Jonathan said to Kali, _Charlie and I are here. We just want to talk_.

Normally speaking mind-to-mind from this small a distance was easy for Jonathan, but he felt himself struggling to be heard.

 _You’re running low_ , Charlie said, taking a tissue from her jacket pocket and giving it to Jonathan. Then she stepped up to the door, pressed her hand against it, and closed her eyes. A moment later, Jonathan heard the deadbolt unlatch.

 _You’ve been practicing_ , Jonathan said, impressed. 

Pleased, Charlie replied, _Well, I’ve got fuck-all else to do between missions._

 _Regretting not enrolling in school_?

 _Not really, no_ , she said, grasping Jonathan’s hand and using the other to turn on her extra power device. She put her hand on the doorknob, but froze, suddenly surprised. _Something’s wrong._

 _What?_ Jonathan asked her, but she shared what she was sensing and he heard it. _Another illusion?_

 _Save your strength,_ Charlie replied. _I’ll flatten it._

She turned on the device at her belt and did just that, removing the wrong-sounding distortion in the fabric of space-time. The flatter and softer Charlie made the sound, the less certain Jonathan became that Kali was actually in the house.

And then the illusion broke, space-time snapping back to the way it was supposed to be.

“She’s not here,” Jonathan had to admit. “I don’t know how she made the illusion _in my head_ , but she’s not here.”

“Is anyone here?” Charlie asked.

“No,” Jonathan said, sitting down on the front steps of the house and wiping more of the blood from under his nose with the tissue Charlie had given him. Looking up at the rapidly darkening sky, Jonathan said, “I got tricked or something. I don’t… I can’t tell where she is. I’m so _tired_.”

“It’s okay,” Charlie told him. "Let’s get back to the hotel, maybe get El to help us find Parsons in the morning.”

Jonathan nodded. It was as good a plan as any. “We should give Weaver back his car.”

Charlie gave an amused snort and replied, “We really should. Can you tell if he’s still where we left him?”

Jonathan drew on the power from Charlie’s device, thinking he really should get Nancy to help him build another one for himself. Weaver was easy to find, not where they’d left him, but in an office, sitting at a desk, somewhere to the south. “Looks like he got a lift back to his office.” Pointing to the car, Jonathan asked, “Think you can get it out of that spot okay, or should I drive?”

“Oh, fuck you,” Charlie said, but she laughed too. “I can get back out of that spot.”

“If you say so.” Jonathan got into the car and very pointedly buckled his seat belt.

~*~

An hour out of Chicago on Saturday morning, when he should have been at the gym and about half an hour away from enjoying pancakes with Nancy, Steve was instead riding shotgun in his and Nancy’s car. He was fiddling with the stereo, trying to get the new tape to start, when Nancy said, "Shit."

"What?" he asked, leaning over to look at the dials, wondering if they were almost out of gas or something.

Eyes flicking not to the dials, but to the rear view mirror, she said, "I think someone's following us."

"Shit," Steve said, turning around to look out the back window.

Jake turned around too, asking, "Which car is it?"

"That black sedan," Nancy told them, and Steve saw the car she was talking about. "Jake, get down. I don't want them to be able to see you."

"Looks like the same car as from yesterday," Jake said, but he followed Nancy's instructions and ducked down, laying sideways on the back seat.

"Well, at least it's not the CIA," Steve said. "I wish we had one of those car phones. We could call Robin or the cops or something. Get some help."

"I wish Jonathan was here," Nancy replied. "He could call for help."

"He could flip the damn car if he wanted to," Steve pointed out. "We have to end up someplace crowded. Someplace these guys won't even think about trying something.

Nancy said, "Yeah. We can't lead them back to the house. Not without giving them some sort of warning."

"Car phone," Steve repeated.

"Those things are like four thousand dollars, and another hundred a month," Nancy said, and Steve was pretty sure she was exaggerating. Then, she said, "I have an idea."

"I'm not gonna like it, am I?" Steve asked, knowing that look in her eye.

"Hold on."

"Shit," Steve said, making sure his seat belt was fastened tightly. He braced himself as best he could and gave Jake a worried look. "Make sure your seat belt is–" 

Nancy floored it, making the engine whine before the automatic transmission shifted gears. 

"Nice and tight," Steve finished, trying not to be too anxious about Nancy's driving. She was a good driver. Still, he had to bite his lips to avoid crying out when Nancy cut in front of a semi and veered last-second onto an exit ramp.

Jake cried out, just a little, like he was stopping himself and trying to seem less scared than he was.

"Jesus Christ, where are we going?" Steve asked as Nancy barely slowed down at the end of the ramp before taking a left turn against the light.

"Are they still following us?" Nancy asked, the wheels squealing as she passed a slow-traveling car.

Looking back, Steve said, "I don't–" But then he had to cut himself off when he saw the black sedan come off the ramp, almost causing a crash as it turned to follow them. "Shit. You're right. They're following us."

"What are we going to do?" Jake asked, his eyes wide with fear.

Passing another car, going at least 20 over the speed limit, Nancy replied, "We are not going to panic. Get ready to get out of the car."

Steve kept his commentary on the situation internal as best he could, but a few words, "Shit, shit, shit," slipped out.

Nancy made a right turn that caused the car to fishtail for a brief moment before she got it back under control. Then she made another left, pulling into a parking lot. The sign out front said, "Illinois State Police. "Let's go, let's go," Nancy said as she pulled into a parking spot next to the door and cut the engine.

Once he was out of the car, Steve asked, "How did you know this was here?" He made sure to keep Jake between the two of them as they hurried to the front door and went in.

"There were signs," Nancy said, in such a way that made Steve feel a little dumb for not noticing them. Then again, he'd been more than a little occupied at the time.

Making sure the door closed behind them, Steve watched the black sedan slow down on the road, probably noticing their car in the lot, but ultimately, it kept going. Steve couldn't see how far down the sedan went before turning around, but there was no way he figured they'd just moved on. They were waiting, Steve just knew it.

"Hello," said the man at the desk. Steve stayed by the window while Nancy approached the desk. "Is there something you kids need help with?"

"We're sorry to bother you," Nancy said, "but a car followed us on the freeway all the way from Chicago. We weren't sure what else to do."

With a condescending tone, the guy said, "It's Saturday, miss. Lots of cars drive down the same freeway from Chicago. It was probably just a coincidence."

"Yeah," Nancy said, and Steve could tell from her voice that she had her scary smile on, "you're probably right. Just in case, do you mind if we use your phone to call our parents?"

Steve left the window, joining Jake and Nancy at the desk.

"Sure," said the policeman, turning his desk phone around. 

Addressing Steve, Nancy said, "We should call your mom and dad. Springfield isn't that far away."

Understanding Nancy meant the Byers, Steve said, "Sure," and picked up the phone. He dialed the number and was relieved when Joyce answered.

"Hello?"

"Hi, Mom, it's Steve," he said, not really sure what tone he should be going for with the state trooper watching and listening in. "We've hit a little bit of a snag."

"Where are you?" she asked, Steve's carefully chosen words not seeming to help stem the anxiety in her voice.

"We're at a police station. State police. In…" Covering the receiver, he asked Nancy, "Where the hell are we, anyway?"

"Pontiac," she replied, rolling her eyes at him. 

"Hey, I was distracted," he insisted, before telling Joyce, "Pontiac."

"You haven't been arrested again, have you?" Joyce asked, in her most disappointed mom voice.

"No!" Steve cried. "Come on, that was one time!"

"Okay, good." Joyce gave a sigh of relief. "What snag have you hit?"

"Those guys who were following Jake yesterday are still following us," Steve told her. "The cops think we're imagining things," Steve noted the frown the policeman gave him. "Maybe you could send Dad?"

"And the twins," Nancy said.

"And the twins," Steve repeated. "I don't know, to escort us or something?"

Joyce was silent for a long moment. 

Thinking he might have been disconnected, Steve asked, "Mom?"

Still on the line, she asked, "Is there a police officer there with you?"

"Yeah."

"Put them on the phone."

Knowing exactly what was coming and trying not to grin too much because of it, Steve held the handset out to the trooper behind the desk. "She wants to talk to you."

The trooper rolled his eyes, but took the phone, saying, "This is Trooper Perry."

Steve couldn't hear what Joyce was saying to Trooper Perry, but he could hear her tone. And honestly, he felt a little sorry for the trooper. He really was just doing his job. He probably had no idea just how many serious situations Steve and Nancy had been through, compared to other people their age.

"Yes, ma'am," Trooper Perry said. "Yes, okay. I'll see if anyone can volunteer off duty. Yes, ma'am. It is the least we can do. Right."

Steve shared a look with Nancy, who smiled before hiding her mouth behind her hand. Joyce certainly had a way with authority figures. 

The Trooper said, “Yes ma’am,” twice more, before handing the phone back to Steve. “She’d like to talk to you.”

“Hey, Mom.”

“Steve, I want you to sit tight, okay?” Joyce said, an edge to her voice like she thought Steve might _not_ wait for whatever plan she had in mind. Honestly, the one she had to worry about was Nancy. “Jim and the twins are going to drive up and escort you back, along with one of Trooper Perry’s team.”

“Okay, got it,” Steve told her. “Thanks. We’ll be here.”

After saying his goodbyes, Steve hung up the phone and turned to tell the others the plan. Then he sat down in the little waiting room across from Trooper Perry’s desk. 

“Who wants to play twenty questions?” 

Nancy shook her head and picked up one of the magazines, but Jake smiled and asked, “Is it bigger than a bread box?”


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for this chapter: discussion of off-screen crimes, and also smoking, and blood. Reference to the AIDS crisis.

Jonathan had fallen asleep on Friday night without calling home. He'd thought about calling, but he figured it was Friday, and Steve had  _ something  _ he was doing at the Alexander Center. They probably wouldn't be back until late, and he was already almost asleep on his feet. He figured he'd call in the morning.

A ringing phone accompanied the coming of morning, and Jonathan wasn't quite coherent when he picked it up and said, "Hello?"

"Byers," said the voice on the other end, and it took Jonathan a moment before he understood it was Agent Weaver. "We've got a possible location on that person of interest from last night. Parsons. One of my guys tracked down an apartment leased in his name."

"Parsons. Yes, right," Jonathan said. "When do you want to pick us up?"

"I can be there in twenty minutes."

Looking at the clock, and seeing that it was actually a fairly reasonable time to be up and moving around, Jonathan groaned. "Can you make it thirty?"

"Are we or are we not trying to find him before more evidence goes missing?" Weaver replied.

"Shit, fine. Okay," Jonathan said. "See you in twenty."

After he hung up the phone, Jonathan picked it back up and dialed the apartment in Chicago. The call went to the answering machine, which was a little strange, since Chicago was an hour behind. Steve and Nancy should still be home, asleep. Oh, they were probably out for a run, if they hadn't gotten back that late last night. Or they were sleeping and ignoring the phone.

Jonathan was tempted to drop Inbetween and go visit them, but between running himself down too much the day before and wanting to conserve the energy he'd built up overnight, he let it go. He'd call again later, when he had a moment to spare. 

As it was, after waking up Charlie by calling her room, he barely got showered and dressed in time to grab something to eat from the continental breakfast before Weaver was outside, waiting for them.

Jonathan nodded off in the back of Weaver's car, waking up again when they reached the apartment building. He followed Weaver and Charlie up to the front door of the apartment building. Figuring it would be good to know whether or not Kali was here, Jonathan put his hand in Charlie's and dropped Inbetween, looking for her. 

If she was here, she was hiding it extremely well. He couldn't find her.

Ten minutes later, the apartment manager honored the warrant Weaver had brought with him and opened the apartment door for them. The space was dark, huge black-out curtains hanging over the tall windows at the far end of the main room. Charlie went over there and opened them, casting light onto everything in the room. It was a studio apartment, the living room also acting as a bedroom and kitchen, the bathroom tucked in the same corner as the closet. There was no sign of Parsons, but Jonathan was drawn to the desk next to the bed. He pulled out the chair and sat down in it, knowing that he needed to open the lower drawer on his left. 

The drawer was stuffed with files. Pulling out the first one, Jonathan opened it, finding it full of all sorts of receipts, usually for food, in a variety of cities around the world. The receipts were all stapled to their own piece of paper, a form of sorts, which Parsons had signed on the line, attesting to the fact that he'd spent this money while under contract.

Under contract for what?

When Weaver came and stood over Jonathan's shoulder, he handed the folder to him. "Cities and dates. We might be able to pinpoint who he took based on who went missing when he was nearby."

"Good thinking," Weaver said, flipping through the file.

Jonathan was about to grab the next file out of the drawer, but instead, he got an odd urge to open the drawer above it. Inside that drawer, he found an old cigar box. When he opened it, he saw that it was full of Polaroid photographs. Parsons had no idea what he was doing with a camera, because they were all washed out, unlit except for the flash. Each picture showed an unconscious person against a dark background. In a few of the pictures, Jonathan could see more of the floor underneath the person, and it looked like the bed of a pickup truck, or a van.

No, it was a van, with high, windowless walls.

"Is there a van registered to Parsons?" Jonathan asked Weaver. 

"I'll have my people check," Weaver replied.

Sighing, Jonathan made himself count the photos. There were twenty eight. Many of them were women, but there were a few men in the mix as well. 

Twenty eight people.

Twenty eight lives ruined, all because they trusted this man.

When Jonathan closed the cigar box, he was shaking, his blood rushing in his ears.

He felt Charlie's hand in his, and he knew they were moving, but he didn't realize they were in the hallway outside the apartment until Charlie had her arms wrapped tightly around him. Jonathan hugged her in return, burying his face in her shoulder and letting a few tears escape.

When Jonathan had his hitching breath mostly under control, Charlie rubbed the back of his head, roughly like she was trying to mess up his hair and make him laugh. He did laugh, wetly, but he still couldn't bring himself to pull away from her.

_ Want me to tell Owens to fuck off with this case? Is it too hard? _ she asked, her tone comforting and fiercely protective.

_ No _ , he told her, taking a deep breath and finally able to let go. Stepping back, he said, "We have to see this through."

Charlie nodded and said, "Okay," but before they moved back into the apartment, Weaver appeared in the doorway.

"I have a lease agreement for a different apartment, under a different name," he said, holding up a piece of paper. "I'm going to get some of my guys processing this place, and then we'll go check it out."

"Okay," Jonathan said, nodding, but not following when Weaver went back into the apartment, presumably to use the phone.

Charlie grabbed Jonathan's shoulder and shook him a little, making him smile, but the weight of those twenty-eight photos was still on his mind. Then she said, "You kind of look like you could use a cigarette."

Jonathan chuckled darkly, but he thought about the puff or two he'd taken from his mom's cigarettes when she wasn't looking, just to try it out. He thought about the way the cloud of smoke around Joyce was always calming, comforting. Why couldn't he have just this little bit of comfort? To get him through finding Parsons?

He nodded at Charlie, and said, "Yeah. Yeah, I think I could."

"Jesus," she said, shaking her head. "I was kidding, but you're not."

"I'm really not," he admitted, letting Charlie hug him again. 

When she let go, she stuck her head inside the apartment, telling Weaver, "We'll be outside."

As they walked down the stairs together, Jonathan said, "Hey, don't tell Nancy, okay? She wouldn't get it."

Scoffing, Charlie said, "Don't tell Nancy I let you bum off me."

Jonathan laughed and nodded. 

Out front, Jonathan leaned back against the brick building, trying not to see those unconscious, washed-out faces every time he closed his eyes. He took the lit cigarette Charlie gave him and breathed in the smoke. It tasted like home, and after a minute, he felt calmer than he had since leaving Chicago.

~*~

It took a little over two hours for Jim and the twins to arrive. Nancy was surprised to see Joyce and Jenny with them, but she supposed it was one way to spend a Saturday together as a family. El hugged Nancy first, then Nancy hugged Jenny and Joyce and Will. Hopper – _Jim_ – gave Nancy’s shoulder a squeeze while Joyce was hugging her. Steve got all his hugs too, and then Joyce was saying, “Hi! You must be Jake!”

Jake looked more than a little overwhelmed by the number of people packed into the state police waiting room, but he nodded and said, “Yeah. That’s me.”

“Don’t worry, you get used to there being so many of them,” Nancy said, catching the twinkle in his eye when Will smiled, having heard her. 

“We’re going to take care of everything, honey,” Joyce promised, taking Jake’s hand and squeezing it. Then she pushed through the group and stood at the desk, saying, “Hi! Are you Trooper Perry?”

“Uh, yes, ma’am,” he said, standing up and reaching over the desk to shake her hand. 

“And did you,” Nancy noticed the way Joyce narrowed her eyes, just a little so the corners wrinkled. It reminded her of Jonathan, and she suddenly missed him more deeply than she had for a while. Joyce continued, “Did you check around the area for anyone suspicious?”

“Yes, ma’am, my colleague, Trooper Davis did a check about an hour and a half ago,” Perry told her. “He didn’t see anything out of the ordinary. I’m sure you’ll be perfectly safe.”

Jim stepped closer to the desk, towering over Joyce, putting his hands on her shoulders as he asked Perry, “Your guy didn’t notice the black, 2-door Oldsmobile sedan sitting in the next parking lot over? Pointed this way? Two guys watching this building? None of this is ringing a bell?”

Perry shook his head.

“Come out front,” Joyce said, waving Perry toward the door. “We’ll go talk to those guys together. Find out why they’re following _my kids_.”

Perry sighed and shook his head, but when he looked down at the floor and scratched at his eyebrow, he called, “Hey, Benji? Can you come man the desk for a minute?”

Another trooper stuck his head out from the back room and said slowly, “Sure, yeah… I guess…”

Trooper Perry went through the counter-height door separating the waiting room from the area behind the desk. “Show me this car.”

“Okay,” Joyce said brightly. She squeezed Steve’s arm and said, “Jenny, stay with Steve, okay? We’ll be right back.”

“Jake, you should stay here, too,” Steve said, waving the kid closer to him. Nancy caught Steve’s eye and tilted her head toward where all the rest of the Byerses were leaving the building. Nodding, Steve said, “I know you want to see this.”

Nancy gave him a bright smile and blew him a kiss. “Thanks, baby. I’ll be right back."

Catching up quickly, Nancy walked with the rest of the group toward the edge of the parking lot and across the lawn that separated it from the parking lot for the office building just down the road. Nancy noticed when El grabbed Will’s hand, but didn’t get too much time to think about what it might mean. 

The black sedan parked on the other side of the lawn started up, its engine rumbling to life. It pulled out of the parking spot and drove away, a little too quickly for its departure to be a casual coincidence. Trooper Perry stopped, reaching up and scratching his head as he watched the car drive away. 

As Nancy was watching the sedan to make sure it actually left, Will leaned close and asked, "You have something to write with? And on?"

"Yeah," Nancy said, reaching into her bag and pulling out the small pad of paper and pen she always kept there. She tried to give them to Will, but he shook his head and looked over at El.

El had her eyes closed, her brow furrowed, and a drop of blood dripping from her nose. However, it wasn’t El who spoke. Will leaned closer to Nancy and said in a low voice, “Raffael Greco and Emilio Calabrese.”

Nancy wrote the names down before showing them to Will, who nodded. “That’s them?” Nancy asked in a whisper, gesturing with her head toward the now-empty parking lot.

Will nodded, letting go of El's hand and hanging back to walk next to Nancy. "Can you give those names to Robin?"

"I will, yeah," Nancy told him. "If she and her people can bring them in and Jake can ID them, the FBI should be able to convict them." Looking back toward the State Police building, Nancy said, "Jake might have to go into witness protection."

"Not today, he doesn't," Will said, and Nancy supposed he was right. And maybe, if Robin's colleagues in the organized crime division found enough evidence that they didn't need Jake's testimony, all the better.

Nancy had no idea how likely that was to happen, but she had to at least try.

As they walked back, Joyce talked Trooper Perry's ear off about the occupants of that car and what they could have done to three kids traveling across the state. Nancy didn't mention the loaded handgun in her purse. Instead, she asked Will, "Hey, you haven't had any visions about news happening around Northwestern, have you?"

Chuckling, Will said, "No. Why?"

"I'm trying to put myself in the running for editor at the paper next year," Nancy told him with a sigh. "But so far, my portfolio is a little light."

"I'm sure you'll find something," Will assured her. "Or something will find you. Like it always does." He gave Nancy a mischievous little smirk.

Shaking her head, Nancy said, "Hey, if we're being fair, at least half of those things found Jonathan first. And it's not like I can report on that kind of stuff. Not if I want to be believed. Not if I don't water it down."

"I suppose that's true."

Nancy thought about Jonathan, and about how she hadn't talked to him since the morning before. She almost asked Will to check on him, before realizing that was dumb. She was sure he was fine. He'd been away before, and he would have to go away again. Nancy would just have to get used to not knowing where he was, or whether he was okay.

Slowing down to walk on Nancy's other side, El linked her arm with Nancy's and said, "He's okay."

"Jonathan?" Nancy asked, just to be sure, like she didn't know perfectly well that El was capable of reading her close enough to know what had just been on her mind.

El nodded. "Things are … _hard_ right now, but he's okay. He'll be okay."

Nancy let out a sigh of relief. "Okay. Thank you."

"I'll tell him to call the house tonight," she said as they returned back to the state patrol building. "So you can talk to him."

"I'd like that." Nancy gave El a hug.

Inside the building, Trooper Perry was telling Joyce, "I just don't see how we can justify the manpower. Now, if you want to time things so you're traveling in the same direction at the same time as one of our patrols, that might work."

"When does your next patrol go out?" Jim asked, his arm around Joyce's shoulders. 

Looking over the desk at the officer on the other side, Perry asked, "What do you think, Benji? About an hour?"

"Something like that," Benji replied, standing up from behind the desk and stretching.

"Oh, man, having to wait another hour?" Steve murmured as he put his arms around Nancy.

"Let's just…" Jim said, looking around at the crowd. "Let's go the long way, huh? Really prevent trouble from following us home." Pointing to Nancy and Steve, Jim said, "Follow me. Stick close."

"Got it," Nancy said, and then they were off again, hopefully this time without a tail.

~*~

When Weaver pulled up to the apartment leased to Parsons' alias, Jonathan could tell Kali was close. He told Charlie as much before dropping Inbetween to visit Kali and see what she was doing. Her proximity was easy to tell by the completeness of the scene before him, and when Kali turned around, her eyes met his. She could tell he was visiting. "You're too late," she told him, and when she stepped aside, he saw the body of Ezra Parsons lying on the floor in a pool of blood. He was still moving, coughing blood, and Jonathan understood that he wasn't long for this world. At least, he wasn't if this was a true vision Jonathan was seeing.

"Are you tricking me again?" he asked Kali, relaying his vision to Charlie, and letting her speak for both of them when she urged Weaver to break the door down the front door of the apartment building if he needed to.

"No," Kali said, walking away from Parsons and into a bedroom. She opened the window.

"Why did you kill him?" Jonathan asked. "We could have gotten so much information from him."

"You might still," she replied, climbing through the window and out onto the fire escape. 

_ Hold on _ , Charlie said, pulling Jonathan close and concentrating hard on Jonathan's vision of Parson's body and its surroundings. There was a heart-stopping lurch through a fold in space, and then he and Charlie were in the apartment. 

Jonathan could feel the way Parsons was fading, the light of his mind dimming as he bled out, his neck slashed. Pulling on Charlie's power device, Jonathan knelt down and touched Parsons’ ankle, skimming as many memories out of the man's head as he could before he was gone.

While he did that, Charlie left the device with Jonathan and followed Kali out the fire escape.

Jonathan's tour through Parsons' memory was disjointed, but Jonathan grabbed as many of the memories as he could. It took some force, as Parsons was too close to death to be thinking clearly. Maybe if Jonathan slowed the bleeding, he would last longer. Grabbing a pillowcase from the bed, Jonathan wadded it up and pressed it to the wound on Parsons’ neck. 

Parsons looked up at him, wide-eyed, and Jonathan felt him begin to understand what Jonathan was after.  _Twenty-eight people you turned over. Did their lives mean nothing to you?_

A rattling breath gurgled in Parson's mouth. _There were more … than twenty-eight._ Parsons smiled an awful, bloody smile and he showed Jonathan all the others. There were so many, most of them regular people, people he found intriguing for one reason or another. There were memories of him playing with their hearts, their lives, their bodies. 

_ Why? _ Jonathan asked him, his blood starting to seep through the cloth and onto Jonathan’s hands.

With a hint of amusement, Parsons replied, _Because I was good at it_.

Jonathan managed to skim a few more faces from his memory, a couple of names, and then he was gone. 

When Jonathan looked up, Weaver was standing over him, looking grim. Jonathan had blood all over his hands. Feeling numb more than anything else, Jonathan told Weaver, “Don’t bother calling an ambulance. He’s dead.”

Nodding sadly, Weaver pointed to the kitchen and said, “Wash your hands. Use lots of soap. You never know what’s going around these days.”

Looking down at his blood-covered hands, Jonathan said, “Fuck,” and went to the sink. He got most of the blood off before it started to dry and crust over. Still, the thought of bringing something home to Nancy and Steve worried the hell out of him.

Charlie came back eventually, empty handed. “I couldn’t ‘port far enough to catch up with her.”

“You know who it was? Who did this?” Weaver asked, turning on a handheld radio.

“We only know her as Kali,” Jonathan told him. "I don’t know her real identity, only that she’s like us.”

“Lovely,” Weaver said sarcastically. “A dead body and three rooms full of paperwork. I guess it could be worse.”

Jonathan finished scrubbing his hands and said, “I have some names and a lot more faces. Victims. I’m sure their families could use the closure.”

Charlie took a pad of paper and a pen out of her jacket pocket. “Gimme the names. Not sure how we’re going to put identities on the faces.”

Jonathan wished he could turn the images in his mind into photographs, project them onto the photo paper and develop them as he saw them. He couldn’t do that. If only he was better at drawing, then–

“I know how,” Jonathan realized suddenly, telling Charlie,  _Will._

_ Right _ , she replied, sharing with him a memory of the last time she’d been in Springfield, admiring one of the drawings Will had up on his bedroom wall. Charlie leaned her head against Jonathan’s shoulder.  _Let me help with remembering, so we don’t lose any of them._

_ We  _ can’t _lose any of them_ , Jonathan agreed. Every one of the people Parsons had victimized deserved justice, even if it was just a line in a police report, an official record of what had happened, and who had been responsible. 

More FBI people began arriving, and Jonathan busied himself with some of the papers Parsons had in this apartment. It seemed like he used this one to entertain guests, with its larger living space and kitchen, reserving the other apartment for privacy. Or a place in which to commit his crimes. 

Charlie was crouched next to the body, watching the forensic techs do their work, when she said,  _He doesn’t have a number tattoo like El does._

_ He wasn’t one of Brenner’s experiments, _ Jonathan concluded. _I wonder how they found him_.

_ Don't know. _ Standing up and looking down at Parsons, Charlie said, _Can’t say I’m sad he’s dead_.

Jonathan agreed.  _Think we’re done here? We helped them find the evidence they needed to keep those other bastards in prison._

_ Yeah, I think so, _ Charlie replied.  _Let’s get a taxi back to the hotel._

Jonathan nodded, more than ready to rest up, choke down some dinner, and catch a flight back home in the morning.

~*~

Steve drove from Pontiac to Springfield, following Hopper’s van down a series of two-lane highways until an hour into the drive, when they made their way back to the interstate. They stopped for lunch in a road-side diner, Jake talking with Will and El about high school and the fact that the twins were seniors now, set to graduate in the spring.

It wasn’t as strange to be spending time with the family in Jonathan’s absence as Steve thought it should have been. That didn’t mean he felt the absence any less. Nancy must have been feeling it too, because she held Steve’s hand a little too tightly, and sat a little closer than she normally would have. Steve held her closer, too, missing the way the three of them would have squeezed together on one side of the table, sharing food and drinks, being close.

When they got to the house, Will disappeared into his room. Steve asked El, “What’s up with him?”

“He’s working on something for Jonathan,” she told him, and then Joyce was handing him a stack of clean linens and asking him to make up the bed in the basement guest room. 

Steve was about to ask Nancy for help, but she was already on the phone, answering his wordless question by mouthing, “Robin,” in his direction.

“I’ll help you,” Jenny said, taking Steve’s free hand and leading him to the basement stairs. “I help Mom make all the beds after we wash the sheets every week.”

“You’re practically an expert,” Steve said, wondering if he and the others washed their sheets that often. Probably not. Probably like once a month, or sooner if there was a particularly substantial mess.

Steve tried his hardest not to think about the last time they’d made a mess that meant changing the sheets, because it involved very adult activities that he didn’t want Jenny seeing. So he thought about bunnies and flowers instead, hoping that would help. 

“How long is your friend staying here?” Jenny asked as they reached the bottom of the basement stairs. 

“I don’t know yet,” Steve told her. “He doesn’t really… He doesn’t have parents. But, Jake is like you guys. He needs some help with figuring out his abilities.”

Jenny crossed the main room of the basement and opened the guest room door. “Mom and Dad aren’t really my parents either,” she said, and Steve wasn’t sure what that was about, if anything. She followed it up by saying, “Elena is my birth mom. I got to see her last weekend.”

“Yeah?” Steve asked, finding the sheet with the elastics and unfolding it over the bare bed. “How did that go?”

“She’s nice,” Jenny said, a smile on her face. “She’s in a hospital, trying to get better. After she gets out, I might be able to see her more.” She grabbed one corner of the sheet, pulling it toward the corner of the mattress.

“Do the kids at school know that mom and dad adopted you?” Steve asked as he pulled the opposite corner to its place.

“Yeah,” Jenny said, and she made an interesting, conflicted facial expression. 

“I think,” Steve said, moving to the other corner and pulling that into place as well, “that it’s kind of cool having more than two parents. I’ve got Mom and Dad, but then I have my other mom too.”

“Just like me,” Jenny said with a proud smile.

“Just like you,” Steve agreed, walking around the bed to go give her a hug. 

Hugging Steve back, Jenny said, “When you grow up and get married, your kids are going to have two dads, instead of two moms.”

Steve laughed. “Yeah, I guess that’s true.”

“That would be fun. Maybe if I had two dads, my treehouse would be even bigger!”

Amused by Jenny’s excitement, Steve said, “Why don’t you show me how it’s coming along, after we finish with this?”

“Yeah!”

By the time Jenny was done showing Steve every little thing she and Jim had done to the treehouse since he’d seen it last, it was late afternoon. Jenny climbed down from the treehouse and took Steve’s hand. “Come on. Jonathan is on the phone.”

Knowing he couldn’t miss that, Steve let Jenny lead him back into the house. He found Nancy on the downstairs extension, sitting on the couch. Steve sat close next to her, putting his ear close enough that he could hear Jonathan.

"... what they needed from us. Should be on a flight tomorrow morning."

"Back to Chicago?" Nancy asked.

"Yeah," Jonathan replied. "How long are you guys going to be in Springfield?"

"We're not sure," Nancy said, looking over at Steve. "How much did the twins tell you about why we're here?"

"You found a kid with abilities?"

Steve snorted. "Of course they'd focus on that. This kid, Jake, he witnessed some mob guys moving a body. The problem is that these guys know where we live. They know what our car looks like."

"Robin is on it," Nancy added. "She's getting her fellow FBI guys to make trouble for them. Hopefully that means they'll forget about us."

"They followed us out of Chicago," Steve said. "If it wasn't for Mom and Dad, I'm sure they would have followed us all the way here to Springfield."

"When I talk to Owens, I'll see if there's something I can get out of him," Jonathan said with a tired sigh.

"What?" Steve asked, worried about that sigh. "Are you okay?"

Surprisingly, he admitted, "No."

"What happened?" Nancy looked as worried as Steve felt.

"I'll tell you about it when I get home," Jonathan told them. "Charlie and I are safe. We'll be back tomorrow."

"Okay," Steve said, and he understood why Jonathan might not want to discuss something over the phone, when they knew Owens' people could have been listening in. That didn't mean it hurt less to know Jonathan was holding something back. "We love you."

"I love you guys too," Jonathan replied.

And then there wasn't anything else to say.

When Steve and Nancy curled up in the guest room bed that night, Nancy pressed her face to the back of Steve's neck, spooning him. Her voice a low whisper, she asked, "How long is he going to be able to keep doing this? He sounded so…"

"Yeah," Steve agreed, twining his fingers with hers. "If...if something happened to him–"

"Don't even think that," Nancy insisted, hugging Steve tighter.

He would have listened to her, but he had a question that needed an answer, before it could eat him away from the inside out. "No, Nance," he said, turning onto his back so he could look at her, even if it was dark and he could barely make out her face. "If something happened to him, would you still want to marry me?"

Nancy sniffled, but she shifted so that she was laying against his shoulder, her arm tight across his chest. "Yes," she said, reaching up and kissing him. "I love you, Steve."

"I love you too," Steve replied. "I'm just scared for him. And I'm scared for us. He balances us out. What if we just don't work without him?"

Nancy sighed. "I don't know." She put her hand over his heart. "I can't imagine having this with anyone else."

"Yeah, me neither," Steve agreed, holding her closer. He kissed her again, and it was good, but he still… He missed Jonathan on his other shoulder. 

"Let's not worry about it," Nancy told him. "And hope we never have to find out what that would be like."

"Avoid thinking about it?" Steve asked with a small chuckle. "That sounds good to me, but will you…?" He reached over, cupping the side of her face with his hand, brushing his thumb against her temple. "You think about everything, Nancy. All the time. What if you start thinking you don't– That I'm not _good enough_ if Jonathan isn't here too?"

"Hey," Nancy said, sitting up and looking down at Steve, her hand still over his heart. "You _are_ good enough, Steve. That whole year Jonathan and I spent away from you? We felt your absence every single day."

Steve nodded, but he still wasn't sure she understood the depth of his worry. She and Jonathan had made it work for almost a year without him. Would he and Nancy be able to do the same? 

Turning away from him, Nancy said, "I think we all know you and Jonathan would be fine if something happened to me."

Unable to understand how Nancy could say something about herself that hurt him so much, Steve sat up too. He pulled Nancy into his arms and said, "We would be the furthest thing from _fine_ if something happened to you, Nancy. Don't– Don't insult _my fiance_ like that!"

Nancy gave a soft laugh, nodding against Steve's shoulder. "Okay, baby. Okay."

"It's all three of us," Steve said. "No one's less important than the others, right?"

"Right," Nancy said. "That means you, too. Understand?"

Steve nodded, pulling back far enough to cup Nancy's face in his hands and kiss her. "I understand," he said, even though he wasn't quite sure he felt it as solidly as Nancy seemed to need from him.

~*~

Jonathan got home before the others, having been picked up at the airport by Robin. He set his bag down next to the door and went directly to the bathroom, turning on the shower. Something about being able to wash off using the soap and shampoo he was used to made him feel so much better than before. 

He was still shaving when he noticed Nancy and Steve were close to being home. He finished quickly and went to the bedroom, pulling on a pair of pajama pants and a t-shirt, even though it was only two in the afternoon. The door opened before he made it over there, but Jonathan was able to meet them in the living room, letting them wrap around him and hold him tightly.

Kissing each of them, Jonathan asked, "What is it? Why do you guys feel so...fragile?"

Nancy gave Steve a look before sighing and telling him, "It was weird being at the house in Springfield without you."

"We missed you," Steve added, kissing Jonathan's neck. He kissed Jonathan a few more times, his hand wandering down Jonathan's back. 

"Hey," Jonathan said, stopping Steve's hand, even though he didn't want to. "I, um…" Shit, he didn't know how to say this. Jonathan took one of each of their hands and brought them over to sit on the couch. "Something happened yesterday."

"Is this what you didn't want to say over the phone?" Nancy asked, giving Steve a worried look. "What happened? Did you get hurt? Did Charlie? Did the twins know something and not tell us?"

"No, nothing like that," Jonathan said, squeezing her hand. "I just… The target we were tracking down? He did some really horrible things. I had to…" He shrugged, not really sure he wanted to put this burden on them. Not when he knew how heavy it was.

"Babe?" Steve asked, brushing a tear from Jonathan's cheek. "What?"

He wanted to keep this in, but it was so big it felt like he was going to burst under the pressure. Jonathan admitted, "He just had some really horrible memories. Horrible things he'd done. I had to. I took them because I had to know who his victims were. I couldn't let everyone else forget them."

Nancy hugged Jonathan tightly and Steve ran his hand back through Jonathan's hair a few times.

"Anyway, I was trying to keep our target alive so I could get as many memories as possible. I put pressure on his wound and got blood all over my hands. Weaver is having the coroner run some tests on the body, but in the meantime, we should be… careful. More careful than we usually are."

"Oh," Nancy said, nodding and giving Steve a look accompanied by a bloom of fear.

Looking over at Steve, Jonathan saw a similar look on his face before he turned to Jonathan and kissed him again. "It's fine," Steve told him, cupping Jonathan's cheek and feeling like love.

"I mean, the risk is pretty low," Jonathan admitted, "but I don't want to give you guys anything. I don't want to hurt you."

"Sweetie," Nancy said, snuggling even closer, "if all we get to do for now is cuddle you, that's totally okay. We're just glad you're home."

The words and the love behind them made Jonathan smile, settled some of that uncomfortable feeling in his chest. Kissing her jaw, Jonathan said, "I just meant we should go buy some condoms first, but that's good to know."

Steve and Nancy both laughed, holding him tight and covering him with kisses and Jonathan tried to enjoy it without dreading the next time he would have to leave.

"Oh," he said, reaching for his bag. "I brought you guys back something."

"A present?" Nancy asked, her face lighting up. 

"Just a little souvenir," Jonathan told her, pulling the paper-wrapped bundle out of the front pocket of his bag and handing it to her.

Nancy unwrapped it, revealing the statue of liberty magnet he'd bought last minute in the airport when he'd stocked up on more batteries and a package of pens. Grinning, Nancy kissed him and said, "Thank you, honey."

"You're welcome," he said, taking another kiss from Steve. Nodding toward the magnet, Jonathan told them, "Someday we'll go see it together."

"Yeah, we will," Steve insisted, resting his head on Jonathan's shoulder. It felt good, being home with them.

Later that night, when the others were asleep, but Jonathan's mind was still turning over, El visited him. He dropped into the Inbetween with her, accepting her hug. "Kali killed him. We could have learned so much more about how many others there are. We could have made him sit in a courtroom and face their families. Given them closure… whatever that means."

"I know," El said, looking down, sad. "She's… Kali has her own ideas about justice."

"We told the FBI, and then Owens, that we didn't know who killed him. If she keeps…" Jonathan shook his head. "We might never find out who's ultimately responsible for this shit, if she keeps getting to them first."

"If she lets me, I'll talk to her," El promised him. 

Jonathan nodded. Then he smiled at her, "I guess you had a pretty exciting weekend, too. How are things going with the new kid?"

"Pretty good," El told him with a smile in return. "We haven't figured out what Jake is good at yet."

"He's staying in the downstairs bedroom?"

"Yeah." El rolled her eyes. "He and Will are still playing video games on the TV down there."

Jonathan laughed and hugged El again. "Check in again tomorrow? You and Will are helping with more of those sketches after school?"

"Yeah, we'll help," she agreed. "Good night, Jonathan."

"Good night."

~*~

Monday afternoon, Nancy met Robin in front of the Evanston police headquarters. "Thanks for doing this for me."

"Hey," Robin said with a smile, pulling Nancy into a friendly hug. "No problem. The guys over in Organized Crime were bowing down at my feet all day today, all because of the names you gave us. It's the least I can do."

Smiling in return, Nancy asked, "You're sure you've got the right lead for the car thefts?"

"Translated it from Italian myself," Robin said, holding up a folder. "My boss thought this was too small potatoes for us, but perfect for the local LEOs to take over."

"Exactly what I needed," Nancy told her, leading the way into the building. 

"Officer McGowan," Nancy said with a smile, setting a cup of coffee down on her desk. "Some cream, a little sugar, right, Henrietta?"

Beaming, the officer took the coffee, saying, "You remembered!"

"Of course I did," Nancy assured her. Nodding toward Robin, Nancy said, "I brought a friend today, all the way over from the FBI. We've got a lead for Captain Foster."

"A lead?" asked Foster's voice through his open office door. He appeared in the doorway, saying, "Since when does a reporter bring the police a lead?" Still, he was smiling under his mustache and opened the door to the bullpen. "Did you bring my cruller?"

"I did," Nancy said, holding out a paper bag and a cup of coffee. "Captain Foster, this is FBI Agent Robin Buckley. Robin, Captain Foster.” As the two of them shook hands, Nancy said, “Robin intercepted communication between two parties discussing the sale of a stolen Porsche, taken off a street here in Evanston."

"Really?" Captain Foster asked, taking the folder Robin handed him and heading back into his office. He set down his coffee and cruller, leaned against his desk, and opened the folder. "Italian?" he asked, looking at Robin. "You did the translation?"

"Languages are kind of my thing," Robin replied.

"Shit, they're shipping the cars overseas before selling them? No wonder they've only been taking the best of the best. Jesus, this is fantastic news!" Foster grinned. "You know where we can find these guys?"

"One of them has turned state's witness on a different case," Robin told him, "but Danny Moretti works in a mechanic shop over in Little Italy. I bet you could get the okay from CPD to arrest him there."

"Is there any other evidence?" Foster asked. "Parts from the stolen cars? Paper work? Your state's witness?"

"Yeah, we can get our witness to provide a deposition," Robin told him. "And in that conversation they talk about a process for altering VIN numbers that requires specific tools. If you find any of them in his possession, that's a good bit of corroboration to go with the witness statement."

Foster nodded, looking through the transcript of the phone call. "Nice. Very nice." He closed the folder and gave Nancy a look. "I suppose you'll be wanting an exclusive on this story?"

"It's the least you could do, really," Nancy replied with her most adorable grin. 

Foster was powerless against her. He chuckled and shook his head. "Fine, fine. Give me a call tomorrow afternoon. I'll let you know then if we're ready for the story to go to print."

"Thank you!" Nancy cried, leaning over and giving Captain Foster a peck on the cheek. "Talk to you tomorrow!"

Robin gave Foster her business card, saying, "I'll be in touch."

After they left the building, Robin asked, "Think this story will put you on track to make editor next year?"

Shrugging, Nancy said, "You never know."

Robin walked Nancy over to her car. "Charlie said Jonathan had a rough go of it over the weekend. Is he doing okay?"

Sighing, Nancy replied, "He says he's okay, but I can tell he's not. I think, since this one was Execugen related, it stirred up a lot of the shit he's tried hard to forget."

Pouting sympathetically, Robin pulled Nancy into a hug. "Tell him that's from me," she said, a sad smile on her face. "And tell Steve he's a jerk for missing that concert on Saturday."

Nancy laughed. "Are you really upset about that? When I called, I told–"

"Yeah, I know," Robin said simply. "He just needs a little teasing from his best friend once in a while."

"True," Nancy said with a nod and another laugh. "Very true. I'll see you on Thursday?"

"Movie night!" Robin replied, heading over toward her car. "I'm bringing the movie! No arguments!"

"Okay," Nancy called back. "See you then!" She got into the car and headed for home, deciding then and there she was going to pick up Jonathan's favorite pizza for dinner. It wasn't much, but it was something she could do to help him feel better. It was better than just sitting by, worrying, that was for sure.

**Author's Note:**

> That's it! I'd love for you to leave a comment and tell me what you thought! I have no ETA yet for the next installment of the series, but if you'd like to be notified when I post it, consider subscribing to [the Mr. Sandman series](https://archiveofourown.org/series/1527764).
> 
> You can find me for a chat [on tumblr](https://pterawaters.tumblr.com/) or [on pillowfort](https://www.pillowfort.social/pterawaters).
> 
> If you liked this work and would like to recommend it, consider reblogging [this tumblr post](https://pterawaters.tumblr.com/post/616149499060142080/read-on-ao3-jonathan-and-charlie-get-called-away).
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> Thanks for reading!


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